Sweet Relief
by Miss Snazzy
Summary: Bella couldn’t take the pain anymore and decided to kill herself. But what will happen when she fails and sees Edward at school the following day? Will that be enough to prevent another attempt? Rated for dark themes. AU for New Moon. Slightly OOC.
1. Preface

**Disclaimer: Twilight and all of its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The plot is mine.**

Preface

Death.

_Noun:_

The act of dying; termination of life.

The state of being dead.

The cause of dying.

A manner of dying.

Often Death, a personification of the destroyer of life, usually represented as a skeleton holding a scythe.

A. Bloodshed; murder. B. Execution.

The termination or extinction of something.

There are many definitions of the word. Each one as truthful and as painful as the last.

The word held me in a vice-like grip—constricting my chest and preventing fresh air from entering my lungs. Each definition pertained to myself and described my life with eerie detail.

I knew death had found me when my knees buckled and I fell to the forest floor that day—the day I died.

The state in which I now lived was that of a zombie. All humanity was gone—only my basic needs were met. Only to prevent my biological death. Not that I would mind if that happened too.

The cause of my anguish was a brief conversation with an angel. Ironic the angel of death would come to claim my soul shortly after the end of said conversation.

The manner in which my life ended was brutal. Physical pain would have been far better—at least, the kind that did not derive from emotional pain. The only kind that I felt now.

A small amount of blood was shed and it did lead to this death. And it did lead to my execution.

Love.

A term of unparalleled beauty. A term that in my life…had become extinct.


	2. Chapter 1: Sweet Relief

**Disclaimer: Twilight and all of its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The plot is mine.**

**A/N: This story begins a week after Charlie threatened to send Bella to live with Renee. Bella never went to the movies with Jessica, so she never saw the men in Port Angeles or heard Edward's voice. **

Chapter 1: Sweet Relief

Song: "Dance with the Devil" –_Breaking Benjamin_

_Here I stand, helpless and left for dead._

***

Dying in the place of someone you love seems like a good way to go. But what if the gesture was neither desired nor warranted?

What if the reason for your existence was taken from your sight leaving the remainder seeming bland and useless. Taken the vibrations of beautiful bells leaving only the sound of disappointed silence. Taken the mouthwatering scent from your nostrils leaving only the foul odor of ordinary to inhale. Taken the most marvelous of tastes leaving only the bitter and sour aftertaste of rejection. Taken your sense of touch leaving your skin numb from the last time his fingers grazed it. Taken your ability to breathe leaving only a painful choking sensation. Carved a large chunk from your heart leaving it hollow and empty.

What if you had everything taken from you but despite it all, you could still feel your soul? Sure it was scalded and black with his absence, but his essence was seemingly burned onto that eternal part of you.

What would you do then?

Would you continue to push through your waking nightmare like any other drone of this world? Would you continue to set your screeching alarm only to face the same horrendous day you just escaped? What if you never saw salvation?

What if you were desperate for relief? And in that desperation you turned to your only hope?

Most religions consider the action a definite way for your soul to reach absolute damnation. But what if you were already damned? What if there was no other pain that could overshadow the one you were currently in? What if you were in such pure agony that nothing could ever possibly be worse?

Maybe absolute damnation wouldn't be so bad.

Maybe some of the wretchedness would dissipate during that eternity?

Different options existed, but were they better? Were they preferable?

An existence throughout eternity living in an array of white clouds where everything is cheery and creatures of myth are barred from passing through their gates. The alternative being a sea of fire where punishment is delivered to those who deserve it and where monsters are apparently guaranteed a spot.

The latter is far more appealing.

Not only do I deserve punishment for my stupidity throughout life, but I have a slight chance of running into someone there.

Of course it would kill me to know he had been right and his eternity of distractions had ended, but it would give me an opportunity. An opportunity to regain my senses. An opportunity to bring meaning back to my existence—body and soul.

No more bland and uselessness. No more disappointed silence. No more ordinary. No more bitter and sour. No more numb. No more painful or choking. No longer hollow or empty.

And filled to the brim with fallen angels.

_Heaven_.

---

Charlie sent an awkward wave in my direction as he pulled out of the driveway and sped off down the road. Once his police cruiser was completely out of sight, I retreated back into the house.

I sat in the kitchen and contemplated my food. Without the charming marshmallows, they're just pencil shavings drowning in a bowl of milk. The squished cheerios each latched onto one of the surrounding marshmallows—the bright colors greatly contrasting their dull tan. By their mere association with the marshmallows, they became far more appealing. The cereal began to turn soggy as my mind wandered back to another time. Another moment wasted on cereal with someone else sitting at this table—watching me.

My eyes clenched tightly shut as I fought to repress that memory. There was no need to start my day with an emotional breakdown. Not only would it result in red blotchy eyes and constant sideways glances from my peers, but it would also be too mentally and emotionally draining.

My eyes opened and I stared at the clock hanging on one of the walls.

I concentrated on the way the hour hand moved in synchronization with the minute hand as they were joined—just for the briefest of moments. A moment that to anyone else would seem inconsequential, but to me…it meant everything. For one brief shining moment, the hands would be one and the sheer happiness of the act drove the hour hand forward. It was as if I could feel the anxiety rolling off the hour hand as the minute hand grew closer. The hour hand always tried to follow the minute hand, but it never succeeded past a minute. The minute hand was always meant to leave…this, the hour hand knew. The minute hand was much too fast and much too brilliant to remain with the hour hand and maintain such a slow pace. Still, the hour hand never relented and always latched on for that brief moment. Would the hour hand ever accept defeat? Would it ever give up? _Could _it ever give up?

As the minutes passed by, the sight became unsettling. No matter how far away the minute hand would extend away from the hour hand, it would always find its way back. Always.

Feeling a knot in my stomach that made eating impossible, I stood to deposit my bowl in the sink—watching as the marshmallows swirled down the garbage disposal leaving the squished cheerios spread across the bottom of the sink.

The knife in which Charlie had used to cut his pancakes somehow appeared in my hand. Twirling the knife was oddly comforting, especially when its point scratched along my fingertips painfully. It didn't draw blood, but I could see a very faint line where it had cut through a thin layer of skin.

My eyes darted to my wrist—there were dark blue and slightly purple veins shooting into my hand. I wasn't necessarily contemplating it—I was much too cowardly to try that method. I was just relishing in the slight spark of hope it granted me. Hope that one day the pain would cease and I would find peace. Such a thought could almost inspire a phantom smile to form upon my lips.

My gaze returned to the clock as I thought about the hours I was about to spend at school with disdain. Charlie would be working late tonight—giving me ample time to fabricate an excuse as to why I stayed home. Feigning sickness would be exceedingly simple for I looked rather sickly. My hair had faded to a dull brown, my skin was disgustingly pale, and my cheeks were sallow. My eyes probably weren't much better, but I refused to gaze into those. Their emptiness bothered me. I already looked like I belonged in a hospital.

_Maybe I did. _

An excuse wouldn't be needed if I would not be around to see Charlie's reaction…

Today would be the perfect day.

Anyway Mondays were always the worst day, and I had once been told that _it is healthy to ditch every now and then. _

After berating myself for having such thoughts, I exited the house. It was only drizzling and the sky was a deep gray. The gray was very comforting—I found vibrant colors to be far too irritating to my eyes. There had once been a time when my favorite color varied between my moods, but what color coincides with the absence of a mood? With the absence of emotion?

The pain that I often felt most likely warranted black, but what about the numbness that ran through my veins? Red symbolized anger, love, boldness. Yellow symbolized happiness—why else would happy faces be that color? Blue… No blue. Never blue. Brown was warmth. White was innocent and pure. Pink was feminine. I did not express, nor was I any of these. I was not angry. I was not bold. And most of all, I was not loved. There was no happiness, no warmth, no femininity. In some ways I was still innocent, but I no longer felt pure. _How could someone so damaged be considered pure?_

My legs moved of their own accord down the sidewalk. Eventually, I stopped several yards before a narrow trail that disappeared into a sea of trees. Not once had I dared to enter this area, let alone the forest. I could feel the memory of this exact spot tearing at the sides of my heart, and clawing until they could reach its middle. Breathing became difficult as I fought to sustain my vastly deteriorating resolve.

Knowing that my will to press on was slowly fading, I attempted to keep the memories from flooding my every thought. This spot made that attempt nearly impossible. It was as if this spot had been branded with the event that took place back in September. The event that effectively destroyed not only my life, but an entire existence full of lifetimes. Although the tearing of my heart continued as I recalled this, my legs again began to move of their own accord once more.

Progress.

Soon, I found myself walking amongst the trees of the avoided forest. The scent of pine filled my nostrils the deeper I ventured. Not once did I stop—it seemed a bit easier to stay in one piece if I was active.

Unfortunately as time wore on and as I pushed my legs to move deeper and deeper, I found myself sinking into a regularly visited pit of despair.

_Why was I here?_

A rhetorical question.

I knew why.

This place had already seen a death. It was already stained with rejection, why not stain it further?

Where else would I possibly do it? In my room as many others had done? Could I do that? Could I mark Charlie's house with my gruesomeness? Cast a terrible cloud over his residence as _he _had done to these woods?

No. Charlie deserved far better than that. He deserved an untainted home and a better daughter.

My steps slowed as I realized where I now was. This was the place I had chosen that night last September after it became apparent I would not reach him. I felt my knees buckle as the memory washed over me. Once again I was lying on the forest floor staring up at the sky through watery eyes. Whilst in my reverie, I had not noticed its change in color. The gray was now deeper and the rain was heavier. Lying on this forest floor, I could now feel the water soaking my jeans and shirt. A shiver ran down my spine that had nothing to do with the temperature. It should have felt cold to me, lying here in my own little puddle of rain and tears, but it didn't.

I was always cold. I was always numb. Nothing could penetrate the wall I had built around myself. Each brick hurt as it was placed, but eventually the wall was sealed and it became easier.

Until today.

Today the wall was gone—each brick smashed as the weight of what I had planned broke through.

Hours seemed to pass, or maybe minutes, but I did not move. I only watched as the sky grew darker and angrier. The thudding of rain and the boom of thunder filled my ears—quieting my thoughts. I was unbelievably grateful for the peace it brought me. At least I was until the rain slowly stopped and the booms of thunder became too spread out. Those momentary windows afforded my mind the opportunity to punish myself for coming here.

_Bella, I don't want you to come with me._

Although it was not in his voice, but in my bland and listless tone, it was still enough to send me over the edge. A choked sob escaped me as the agony swallowed my every coherent thought. Clutching my chest, I rocked slowly back and forth. The sound of thunder filled my ears again, but it was no longer soothing. My body was already falling to pieces and no amount of noise was going to quiet me or my sobs. The thunder may have gotten closer, but I could not be sure.

Now was the time. My entire form, body and soul, was yearning for it—practically buzzing with anticipation.

Everything had been taken care of.

The house had been cleaned from top to bottom—every surface was spotless. There would be nothing to stop Charlie's happiness. His home was clean of dirt and soon his life would be clean of his emotionally dead daughter.

My fingers slipped into my pocket to produce the pill that would be my sweet relief. A couple months back Charlie got wind of a guy who was planning to commit suicide. Apparently he hadn't gotten accepted to any of the colleges in which he applied and had somehow gotten a hold of a cyanide pill.

Charlie confiscated it of course and put the guy on suicide watch.

No one at the station would expect the quiet daughter of the Chief of Police to be up to anything sinister. She was just going through some trouble losing her first love and all.

Didn't they understand how dead I was inside? Didn't they understand that this wasn't just some phase I would snap out of?

No. They didn't understand. My age withdrew any credibility I might have had. Young girls were always known to act overemotional from time to time. Even when I was literally catatonic, they believed it would pass. They were scared of course, but once I began to make the effort they were all dying to see, they called it progress.

Cutting myself off made everything a little easier. But the truth is…I'm just tired.

Tired of pretending. Tired of the nightmares. Tired of the sideways glances and whispers. Tired of constantly being watched with disappointment over my lack of an improvement. Tired of the pain. Tired of the hollow quality my life had taken.

Tired of everything.

Anyway, it was very easy for me to stop by the police station to surprise Charlie with his lunch. He hadn't noticed that he had forgotten it until he was at the station. He hadn't noticed that I had purposely distracted him until he left to ensure that he forgot his lunch.

So I brought him his lunch and he was grateful. That gratefulness stung a bit, but I could not let it distract me from my goal. While he made a quick call to cancel the order he had made for pizza, I managed to sneak his keys away.

Having seen him use the key before, I easily found the one that went to the lock for the evidence room. It took less than a minute to find what I was looking for. No one would notice. No one would suspect.

Too easy.

Now here I lay upon the forest floor of the place in which I died months ago holding the answer to all my problems. The relief I had been desperate for since that terrible day although I didn't know that desperation until more recently. My plan was to press on through this hollow life—ignoring the pain and the empty beating in my chest.

That was until a week ago when Charlie threatened to remove me from the surrounding green and wet that was Forks to the brown and hot that was Phoenix. Apparently Charlie and Renee thought the place in which I had spent my happy childhood would help me improve. That was when I decided.

This place would be my grave.

It already was in a way, but I wanted the more literal meaning to be true.

Amazing that such a tiny thing could be the answer. The serenity it would bring me was almost tangible, just inches from my grasp.

With pursed lips, my hand rose so that the pill was but a centimeter from them.

I was a centimeter from salvation.

Tears rolled down my cheek as I allowed the feeling of Edward's arms wrapping around my waist to overwhelm me. It was as if I was laying on his cold stone chest as he hugged me in a constricting, but comforting way. His perfectly sculpted lips found my neck and I sighed as he trailed soft kisses up my neck till he reached my earlobe. His lips found my ear and a shiver of joy ran down my spine as he spoke.

_I love you. _

Suddenly, I heard a loud deafening crash a few yards away. Sitting up, I stared in horror as a tree collapsed—missing my body by a few feet. In my state of panic, I began scooting backwards on the forest floor losing the pill in the process. Eventually the adrenaline pumping in my veins afforded me the strength to stand up, and I began running deeper into the forest—away from the broken tree.

Despite what my intentions were mere moments ago, I was not ready to die—at least, not this way. I wanted to die on my terms—in his arms. How much more terrible would it be when my body is found? What about Charlie? What about Renee? What about—

_Bella, please run faster. _A familiar voice pleaded to me. The shock of hearing it caused me to stop in my tracks, resulting in a frantic cry. _Don't Stop!_

It was his voice. I could hear his voice. Not my dead tone, but his beautiful velvetiness. It was _his _voice. How?

Smiling, I obeyed the voice. How could I not? Not only did he care about my safety, but he actually thought I could outrun lightning. I might as well just lay on the forest floor for as much good as running would do. The voice began to growl, but the sound was cut off by another boom of thunder. It sounded so very close.

_Don't think like that! Don't you dare give up! Just keep running. Just please keep running! _

My legs ached as I pushed myself even harder to escape the inescapable lightning. Everything seemed to go into slow motion as my eyes widened at the bright light that was now sashaying down from the sky to a point just feet ahead of me. This was the end. The end I had been waiting for. It seemed too good to be true that I would have Edward with me at this moment. I whispered "I love you, Edward". Then the beautiful voice yelled "NO!" as my vision left me and everything went dark.

**A/N: So because this story is pretty much going to be entirely in Bella's point of view, I'm not going to put "BPOV" in the beginning of the chapters. If I do end up changing POVs, I will make sure it's obvious. **


	3. Chapter 2: False Hope

**Disclaimer: Twilight and all of its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The plot is mine.**

Chapter 2: False Hope

Song: "Going Under" –_Evanescence_

_Now I'll tell you what I've done for you_

_50 thousand tears I've cried_

_Screaming, deceiving, and bleeding for you_

_And you still won't hear me._

***

Tonight the sky was utterly black. Perhaps there was no moon tonight—a lunar eclipse, a new moon. A new moon. I shivered, though I wasn't cold.

Standing before me was an inhumanly beautiful boy. He was speaking, but I could not hear any sound escape his pouty lips. Some part of my mind could hear and understand what he was saying because my legs shook beneath me. His words finally registered in my ears.

_Bella, I don't want you to come with me. _

I may have responded, though every part of me felt numb and I did not hear or feel the words leave my mouth.

_It will be as if I never existed. _

I reached out to him, but he just danced away from my arms with a grin that stretched across his face. As I repeated the movement, so did he. The way he was moving was similar to that of a predator circling his prey, but instead of coming closer, he was slowly inching away. His lips parted as he spoke once more.

_I don't love you. You were merely a novelty. A novelty that has lost its use. _

I awoke to the screaming of my alarm clock which was flashing 8:40 in the darkness. As I slapped the alarm clock to turn it off, I was surprised to find that the terrible noise had not stopped. It was then that I realized the sound was coming from me. Biting down on my bottom lip to silence the screams, I swiped the back of my hand across my forehead to remove the sweat that had accumulated during the night.

Not only did my mind refuse to let me forget the words that had caused me so much pain, but it often enjoyed adding things. That was just one of the reasons I was not allowed to think about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

If I were still able, I might have laughed at the Harry Potter reference.

Abruptly, I sat up—taking in my surroundings with wide eyes. "How did I get here?" I rasped in the darkness. The last thing I could remember was being in the forest…

Had that been a part of the dream? It was so vivid—I could remember the feeling of the rain soaking my clothes and even the smell of pine. My hands wound into my hair and I gasped at the dampness. Had I taken a shower last night?

Bounding off my bed, I tripped my way to the bathroom to stare at my shocking appearance. My hair was wild and my skin was freshly washed. My eyes were slightly puffy, but that was to be expected from waking from such a nightmare.

Everything was still as dull and lifeless as it always was, but I was still shocked not to find any changes. Although the idea that I had narrowly missed lightning to wake up here was rather unlikely, that dream had just been…so vivid.

A tear fell upon my cheek as I remembered _his _voice. Of course it had been a dream.

Surprisingly, my chest didn't hurt anymore than the normal ache as I replayed his words over and over in my head. He had sounded so worried for my safety—love had laced his tone. It was a laughable idea—that he could still care for me in that way, but it still brought me some comfort.

I groaned as I recalled the time and decided to begin getting ready for another terrible day at school. I threw on the first articles of clothing my fingers touched and washed the sleep and remnants of my nightmare from my eyes.

Charlie's cruiser wasn't in the driveway. I began to wonder whether he was working a late night shift or an early morning shift. Feeling nourishment to be unnecessary, I packed my backpack and grabbed my keys to head off to school.

By the time I made it to the crowded parking lot, my first two periods had already ended. Feeling haggard and rushed, I raced to my History class—tripping over random cracks in the cement before finally opening the door.

Thankfully, the teacher didn't make a big deal about the tardiness and continued his lecture after only a second of acknowledging my presence. I slumped into my usual chair in the back of the room, letting the cold metal shock me awake.

After pulling out a notebook and copying the lecture notes off the overhead with frantic speed, I laid my head on my arms—hoping to use this time to replay his words of encouragement from my dream.

Although hearing his voice didn't illicit any emotional breakdowns, I still couldn't even think his name. Thinking his name—attaching it to his voice—would only create hope. Hope that he did somehow still care for me and that he might return someday once he had run out of distractions.

A false hope.

Growing slightly uncomfortable, I lifted my head up—resting my chin on my arm. My eyes flickered from the same notes that had been on the overhead since I had arrived, to my surrounding classmates. I froze when I noticed several of them angled toward me, staring in confused silence. I could feel the heat rising to my face in embarrassment, warranting only further confused glances from them.

Removing my hair tie, I allowed my hair to fall down upon my shoulders to create a curtain around my face in an attempt at hiding—my gaze now trained on the page of notes in front of me.

I couldn't help but wonder as I tried to lessen my blush why I had even bothered to show up today. Despite the fact that my trip to the forest had been a dream, the contentedness and relief I had felt with that pill inches from my lips still lingered in my heart.

To label the feeling as happiness would be an utter lie, but I couldn't deny that it was the closet to happy I had felt for many months. Often when my thoughts went down the direction of suicide, my mind would somehow convince me to postpone my plans.

_The timing just isn't right. _The voice would say.

_No need to be rash, you only get to do this once. _The voice would reason, almost as if the experience should be cherished. There were only two parts of the experience that I had been eager for.

The first, obviously being the cease of my pain and anguish. The second…being wrapped in his arms at the end.

Now there was one I had not anticipated, but was currently at the top of my list. To hear _his _voice. Though I wasn't entirely sure I would—I only heard his voice when I was running from the lightning—not when I was about to swallow the pill.

Not to mention that what I was basing my new desire on was just a dream. The likelihood that I would hear his voice at all in the end was slim, but I still liked the odds.

I _could _hear him. It was a possibility. Unlike the life I was living now. In this life, there wasn't the slightest chance I would every see him, let alone hear him again.

The bell rang so I gathered my stuff and hobbled over to the doorway, feeling weary of all the whispers surrounding me. The stares only increased as I entered my Spanish class, some people wearing a look of disgust and others pity.

"Hi Bella."

I looked up from my desk to find Jessica standing in front of me. Groaning internally because I was not ready for her questions or her gossip, I shifted my body so that I could look at her face. She looked kind of…different. Her hair was pulled up half-hazard, though not in as much disarray as mine had been, and she was wearing an entirely unoffending outfit. Her usual appearance revealed far too much of her skin, so I inwardly praised the change.

"Hi Jessica," I replied timidly. We hadn't spent much time together since… Actually, I was fairly certain we hadn't spent _any_ time together since…_that_. It was odd that she would initiate a conversation after months of silence and indifference.

"How are you today?" An odd question. When had Jessica ever asked mea question like that? Most of her questions only served as an opening for her to spew whatever gossip she had been waiting to blurt.

"Did you finish your Spanish homework?" I asked in an attempt to change the subject, though I wasn't certain whether we had even had Spanish homework.

Apparently we did because she grimaced. "Mostly… After a year and a half in Spanish, I still don't know how to say chair."

I plastered on a fake smile as she chuckled lightly to herself. She gave me a funny look and placed her hand on top of mine. "Umm…if you…" she swallowed, seeming to collect herself and continued, "If you ever need someone to talk to…I'm here." And with a slight squeeze, she released my hand and sat in her seat across the room.

I stared at the hand she had been touching with furrowed brows. _Since when did Jessica ever behave like that? _

Even if her offer was genuine, I couldn't talk to her. I couldn't talk to anyone. No one would understand.

Besides, it wouldn't be right to grow closer to Jessica. It was good that we had drifted apart…she would feel less sad when I'm gone. _If she feels sad at all, _I added as an afterthought.

The class drifted by in a blur and the bell for lunch finally rang. Several people looked like they were about to approach me, but I managed to make it out of my Spanish class before any of them could.

Cautious of tripping and drawing attention to myself, I snuck into the library without anyone noticing. The room appeared to be empty, for which I was grateful, so I walked over to my usual hiding place among the higher level math and science books. There wouldn't be any tear inducing romance novels or horror books with familiar characters in this section.

This place had become one of my only sanctuaries… The smell of dusty books was comforting.

Nausea always overcame my body at school, so I never needed to buy food or suffer the stares and whispers while waiting in the lunch line. Skipping meals wasn't healthy and my body has become too lean, but I just couldn't bring myself to eat anymore. I only forced the bland and tasteless mush down my throat during dinner time when Charlie was ever vigilant.

My belts had to have new holes added to make them functional and my jeans wearable. None of my shirts clung to my form—something that I preferred anyway. Leaning against the wall, my eyelids slid shut as I basked in the memory of him caring about my safety in the dream forest.

I had been so close. So close to ending everything in my dream. That dream, I now realized, had successfully erased the doubt I had about whether ending my life was a good idea.

It was my only option.

Lunch ended and after a moment of mulling over what I had decided, I lifted myself off the floor. I would go to Chemistry, but I would ditch Gym.

_One more hour, _I thought. My lips twitched at the prospect.

The hallway wasn't as crowded, meaning I was close to being late. Running as fast as I could without causing myself or anyone else bodily harm, I made it in the classroom just as the bell rang. Mr. Banner was giving me a disapproving look, so I trained my eyes on the linoleum as I found my seat.

That look wasn't necessary. _I had _made it. And even if he _did _give me a detention, I wouldn't be serving it.

_One more hour…one more hour, _I chanted in my head while pulling out a notebook and a pen.

My body tensed as I barely caught something shift to my left. With my hair pulled down around my face and my eyes trained on the floor, I hadn't noticed that someone was sitting here. No one ever sat next to me anymore… _I wonder who it could be?_

I didn't want the person to see me looking, but I was curious as to who would be brave enough to sit next to the _black hole of all happiness_.

As subtly as I could, I tucked the left side of my hair behind my ears. I'm pretty sure I gasped at the personal I saw, though I can't be certain because my heart was beating so loudly and my ears were ringing.

Edward.

It was like seeing a ghost… There were no sheets—just a mess of bronze hair atop his head. His skin looked pale white like a ghost… I'd venture that his skin would turn out to be ice cold as well. There was no moaning, as ghosts often do—just his soft intake of breath that swirled his scent around me. A scent so familiar that it burned my throat as I hungrily breathed him in. Every inch of his face was visible and despite all the ghostly qualities he possessed, his eyes completely cancelled out that possibility.

His eyes were an intense green that didn't seem green at all. There seemed to be a reddening quality about them—similar to the way the tip of a thorn on a rose faded from red to green. I was transfixed upon the fascinating color. It seemed odd to me that he would wear such peculiar contacts when his eyes were already a breathtaking topaz. His eyes shone with amusement as he gazed down at me.

Every inch of my body was screaming for me to pounce on him, but he did not love me. He had made that abundantly clear when he left. So despite the yearning I was feeling to touch him, I remained still. I choked down the pain, the tears that had surprisingly failed to surface, and asked an innocent question. I didn't want to scare him off because an untouchable, unlovable Edward was far better than no Edward at all. I barely managed a whisper, and my voice was so small that I doubted any human could hear. I knew he had heard. "What are you doing here?"

Although my body was straining to remain still and not attack him a moment ago, my body was now completely stoic with the way his eyes were locked onto mine. His amusement seemed to falter with irritation. "I think the real question, _Izzy_, is what are_ you_ doing here?" he sneered.

I blinked for the first time in confusion. "Izzy?"

He wore a malicious grin as he asked, "What? Does it hurt being called that?" I blinked again. _What was he talking about?_

"No…why would it?" I was amazed how steady my voice sounded. The confusion I was feeling must have made hiding my emotions easier.

"I would tell you not to play dumb if I didn't already know that it is impossible for you," he replied sarcastically.

"Edward…" I cringed as I said his name. Evidentially, it still hurt to say it.

"You disgust me," his voice—the epitome of my existence—rang with malice.

Of course I disgusted him.

He was the most beautiful of gods and I was the short awkward eighteen year old hag with haystack hair and green skin.

Of course I disgusted him.

Even his icy stare was an improvement to my dull, dead brown ones.

Of course I disgusted him.

He was brilliant and magnificent while I was terribly average and plain.

Of course I disgusted him.

These were all known facts from the very first time I had ever laid eyes upon him. I had been expecting these truths to come out at some point.

Nothing could have prepared me for those words though.

_You disgust me. _

The tears fell from my eyes freely before I could either move or care.

I was petrified—glued to my seat by the truthfulness of those words.

"How could anyone _ever _love _you_," it was a statement, not a question. 

A part of me that I didn't even know existed anymore broke with those words. My mind barely registered my staggered movements to the door, nor the painful throbbing of my knees as they made contact with the linoleum outside the door frame.

All sound was completely gone except for the dark musical chuckle I heard before scrambling back to my feet. The sound played continuously throughout my head like a broken record. Something hard made contact with my hands which I barely noticed were shaking rather violently.

Breathing became even more difficult as the sobs began to escape. I crumpled to the floor, not even making it to a stall. With my hands clawing at my face, I cried over and choked on his words. All other coherent thought was gone. There were only his words and my pain.

After and unknown amount of time, I felt a pair of cool hands touch my hair—making me cry even harder. I couldn't look into his eyes. I couldn't see that same hate. I couldn't.

The hands pried mine away from my face and I gasped because even through the tears I knew that painful beauty anywhere.

Rosalie.

_Was she here to make me feel worse? It was never a secret how Rosalie felt about me… She was the only Cullen,_ I cringed at just thinking the name, _that didn't accept me_. _Well actually she was now one of two that did not want me around. _

I wasn't sure what I was waiting for. Was she going to spit venom in my face? Break my neck for making them have to move in the first place? Bash me over the head with the kitchen sink for making their lives so much more difficult?

Whatever I had been expecting was definitely nothing close to what she actually did. Her hard cold arms wrapped around me and she placed my head on her shoulder. My crying continued as she held me, rocking side to side.

Eventually my sobs quieted and I began to wonder how angry she would be when she noticed the wet spot my tears had left on her shoulder. Sensing that I was finished, she dropped her arms and stood, pulling me up with her.

"Ss-sorry," I mumbled, staring in the corner at the clump of hand soap someone had allowed to hit the floor.

"It's ok," she replied. I looked at her then because her voice wasn't filled with the usual loathing, but with something else. _Compassion?_

She looked different—her hair was in a messy pony and she wasn't wearing anything ostentatious. She still looked inhumanly beautiful, but toned down. She was wearing a simple pair of jeans with a long sleeved white turtleneck.

I started to walk toward the door, but she stopped me. "Isabella… Don't let them get to you. It's hard to lose someone, but you shouldn't let that tear you down," she said softly. She was being so kind—I was at a loss for words.

More confused than ever, I nodded with another thanks and went straight to my truck. I couldn't remember the drive home, but somehow through the haze of the tears and gut wrenching sobs that had resumed; I found my eyesight level with one of the cupboards in Charlie's kitchen.

My pale fingers wrapped around the handle and I pulled without ever making the conscious decision to. Finding what I was apparently seeking, I unscrewed the top and brought the bottle to my lips. The bottle tilted up and my mouth was met with a foul tasting liquid that burned as its flames scorched the sides of my throat and numbed my tongue.

Everything was dark until I found the strength to open my eyes so that I could gaze down upon whatever I had just drank. I gasped as I read the label several times to make sure I wasn't seeing things.

Whiskey.

Excluding the glass of champagne Renee had forced me to drink at her and Phil's wedding, I had never drank alcohol. Although it was something most people my age liked to do, I never really saw the allure. Idly, I wondered whether the burning in my throat was similar to what vampires felt when exposed to blood.

I took another swig—trying to hush those thoughts. It wasn't as terrible as the first time, though still incredibly foul. Gulping it down greedily, a third of the bottle was gone before I stopped. Swaying slightly, I placed the bottle on the counter rather unceremoniously, causing some of its contents to splash over the side.

Without thinking, I drifted over to the stairs and tripped on the first stair. A weird sound echoed in the house and I searched worriedly around the room from the spot I had taken on the floor. My eyes widened as I realized it had come from me. And that it had been a _laugh. _

I giggled again and began to crawl up the staircase. Dragging my body along the carpet, I finally found my room and pulled myself up to fall down onto my bed. I curled into a little ball and created a cocoon around my body with the blankets.

I thought only one thing as I drifted to sleep.

_He's back. _


	4. Chapter 3: Should I Even Bother?

**Disclaimer: Twilight and all of its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The plot is mine.**

Chapter 3: Should I Even Bother?

Song: "Haunted" –_Evanescence_

_Long lost words whisper slowly to me_

_Still can't find what keeps me here_

_When all this time I've been so hollow…inside._

***

My head throbbed as the shrill sound of my alarm assaulted my ears.

"Ugh," I groaned in the darkness, diving my head into my pillow in an attempt to escape the terrible screeching. It didn't help so I sat up, ready to throw the alarm clock across the room and rush to the bathroom. The room was tilting slightly and my arms clutched at my quilt for support.

I waited for the dizziness to stop, but was surprised to find that after several minutes, it hadn't lessened. Tired of waiting and certain my bladder was about to explode, I left the bed and reached the bathroom after running into the walls a couple of times.

Before I knew what was happening, I was kneeling in front of the toilet, gripping the sides so tightly that my knuckles were white.

The contents of my stomach emptied into the bowl and I gagged at the smell. There wasn't much food, for I rarely ate. I slumped to the cold floor, enjoying the feeling on my face. If I had not cleaned this floor two days ago, I might have been worried about germs.

I replayed the events that occurred yesterday in my head.

_He's back. _

That thought was enough to send air back into my lungs, but as I remembered his words, the air came whooshing out again, expelling that foreign feeling of being able to breathe.

_You disgust me. _

My head shot up from the floor as I vomited again, almost missing the toilet.

_How could anyone ever love you. _

Another wave of nausea hit me and the remaining contents of my stomach came shooting out of my mouth again. It was as if my body was desperate to wash away the memories and cleanse itself of the truth he had bestowed upon me. The truth that although I had known all along, was still incredibly painful to hear.

The remnants of last night beat against the inside of my head. The feelings that I had locked away thrashed against the bars of the cage within my heart, threatening to slice the duct tape that had been put so precariously over the crack running down the middle of my heart. The pitiful organ had been through so much… Did it not also deserve peace?

The pain was stifling, but the throbbing of my head and the queasiness of my stomach were grand enough distractions to prevent my heart from going to pieces. The duct tape would work…

At least for the time being. Who knows when the weight of what has transpired will rain down upon me in full force.

It was strange that although the sadness was overwhelming and made my chest hurt, I could still move. I could still function enough to reach the sink and brush my teeth. I could still crawl to the shower and allow the hot water to soak my body.

I drug my hand across the mirror, wiping away the fog. My face was slightly redder than usual—giving me the appearance of a bashful ghost.

_I wonder if anyone will notice._

As I stared at the haunting face in the mirror, I couldn't help but feel ashamed for my behavior last night. The daughter of the Chief of Police should know better than to consume an illegal beverage. For years Charlie had pounded the laws he enforced into my head and for years I had never disobeyed.

Strange that I would even try something so dangerous... People fall victim to alcohol poisoning all the time…what if that had happened to me?

Of course dying is not the issue. I have been begging for death—the idea is welcoming, not alarming. No the fact of the matter is if I _had _died, I would have never seen him again.

As much as I might have wanted to lie in bed all day, I couldn't miss school. Not because my attendance would suffer, not because Charlie would find out, and not because I wanted to listen to my teachers' riveting lectures. I couldn't miss school because it was an opportunity to see him.

For months my eyes had burned to see him, even the smallest glimpse. It wouldn't be easy seeing him and there was the possibility that I would run away crying again, but I couldn't miss that hour.

Pulling on what I assume was a pair of jeans and a shirt, I threw my hair up and brushed my teeth another five times before I felt comfortable enough to walk downstairs. That was when I remembered Charlie.

Looking out the window, I confirmed that his cruiser was already gone.

My eyes darted across the room in alarm as the partially drained whiskey bottle came into view. There was a small pool of it on the counter, so I grabbed a rag to clean it up. About ten seconds into the task, I realized the smell would be prominent on the rag.

Evidence.

Grabbing a plastic grocery bag from one of the bottom cupboards, I placed the rag and the bottle inside. If he had seen the bottle, wouldn't he have already come barreling at me with his shot gun?

Due to the lack of a yelling wake-up call and the absence of his cruiser, I concluded that he must have pulled an all-nighter. He seemed to be working a lot lately… I suppose he was tired of being stuck at home with me.

I couldn't blame him.

With the bag of troubles in hand, I climbed up the stairs and went to my room. Charlie was always awkward when it came to anything intimate, so I was certain he would never venture in my underwear drawer. Hiding the bag amongst the delicates, I grabbed my keys, locked the front door, and hopped into my truck.

He would probably notice the missing bottle eventually, but at the moment, I couldn't find it in me to care that much.

I was going to see _him_.

Again, I entered the parking lot a little later than I should have. This time I was more alert, but I did not see a silver Volvo parked contrastingly among the outdated and beat up vehicles of the rest of the students.

What if he wasn't here?

I shook my head, trying to ignore those thoughts. He was here. He had to be here. I looked up to see a dark sky loaded with clouds. It seemed as if it would rain at any moment.

He didn't have an excuse to be absent today.

Except one—_me_.

Crossing the campus in a brisk walk, I made it to my desk with two minutes to spare. The teacher didn't mention my absence, and neither did I. The lecture began and just like yesterday, I felt the stares burning into my back, except for one person who had turned entirely in their chair to stare at me from behind them.

I tried to ignore them as best as I could and eventually resorted to chanting a selection of words in my head.

_Just make it to Chemistry. Just make it to Chemistry. Just make it to Chemistry. _

Much to my disappointment, someone decided to come over and talk to me when we were told to break into groups of two or three to discuss the novel we were supposed to have read. Too bad I didn't read anymore.

"Isabella," I recognized the voice as Eric and the sound of a chair scraping along the linoleum floor. Having been staring at the grooves in my desk for nearly forty minutes, it took my eyes a moment to adjust when I looked up.

It was Eric, as I had already figured out, but he seemed different. Clad in a black leather jacket and slightly sagging faded jeans, he didn't look like the somewhat nerdy boy I was used to seeing. Even his expression contrasted his usual appearance with a smugness that for some reason…worried me.

His hair was coated in so much gel that you could almost see the thick layer that was keeping the sharp strands pointed toward the ceiling. He was leaning forward slightly in the chair he was straddling, with his elbows resting inches from mine. The closeness and the false sense of familiarity made me fidget in discomfort.

I couldn't even remember the last time we had spoken.

"Are you done moping around yet?" he asked with a sigh.

I furrowed my brows as I tried to think of a way to answer his question.

Was I done moping? No.

Would I ever be done moping? No.

And most importantly, what did it matter to him?

"What?" was my lame answer.

"Come on Isabella," he whined, "it seems like we haven't partied in forever. I'm tired of this funk you've fallen into. I heard about what happened yesterday."

I continued to stare at him in confusion and his eyes narrowed. "Why can't you just forget about him? He doesn't want you and you're much too hot to wait for someone who clearly doesn't give a damn about you."

He didn't want me, but hearing Eric confirm this…just sent me over the edge. "Who do you think you are?" I asked through gritted teeth. My voice had gone up a bit in volume and some of the people around me started to watch.

"Eric fucking Yorkie." He stood up, his chair making an irritating noise with the force he exerted, and left the room without another word.

My hands shook as I glared at the back of his head until it was out of view. He didn't know me and he didn't know him. He had absolutely no business in anything that happened between us. And everything that never would.

Eric had acted oddly, just like Jessica. Not in the same way, but in a way that was different from what I had been used to. I guess they had changed while I was in my zombie state.

It is remarkable—the things that one can miss when they shut themselves off from the rest of humanity.

I sat there, stewing in anger until the bell rang and I rushed to Calculus. Only three more classes and lunch to go…

My classes waged on in such a sluggish way that it took an unbelievable amount of will power to refrain from jumping from my desk and racing to Chemistry. The only reason I didn't give into my temptation was because I knew Edward wouldn't be there for a couple more hours.

I suppose I could always peek into one of his other classes…just for a glimpse…just to confirm he's here so that I can settle down. Unfortunately, I didn't know his schedule. Prior to what happened months ago, our schedules were practically identical. Now I may not have been the most vigilant yesterday, but I would have noticed if he had been in any of my other classes.

The classes I had missed yesterday had already passed, so there was no hope of seeing him there. I didn't need to ask myself why he didn't keep his old schedule when he returned. It was clear he didn't want to be around me.

Though I'm a terrible liar, I could always try to convince Mrs. Cope to give me his schedule.

Suppose that plan did miraculously work? What if he saw me? Would he be angry? What would he say? What would he do?

Would he leave?

I froze as the image came to life before my eyes. Him…standing. Him…grabbing his books. His back facing me…as he leaves the school.

As he leaves my life forever.

_Again._

I felt a clammy hand on my shoulder and I jumped. It was Jessica.

"Bella are you alright?" her eyes shown with true concern. Taking in my surroundings, I realized everyone was staring at me.

I turned my head to the front of the classroom when I heard a throat clear. "Uh…Jessica would you mind escorting Miss Swan to the bathroom?"

I made to push myself up from the desk with my hands, but was surprised when they only met air. I was already standing.

Jessica gave me a funny look and I couldn't help but sigh in irritation when she grabbed my hand.

I didn't want _human _contact.

She pulled me gently from the room, guiding me to the closest women's restroom. I braced myself for the onslaught of questions when the door to the classroom shut behind us, but they never came. She only glanced back a couple times with a sad smile on her face.

Holding the door open for me, she waited till I crossed the threshold before she followed. I noticed the same pool of soap on the floor I had seen yesterday.

Taking slow steps, Jessica grabbed a couple paper towels, folding them into a rectangle. She turned on the faucet and stuck the folded paper towel under the running water. Glancing around at the vacant stalls, I knew there was nothing holding her back from blurting out her questions now.

She looked up at me for the first time since we entered the bathroom and handed me the soaked makeshift rag.

Bringing the rag to my cheeks, I wiped away the tears I hadn't noticed.

"Um…Bella?"

I grimaced as she spoke. I didn't want to be bombarded with questions. I didn't want to answer them and I didn't want to have to fabricate lies.

"You don't have to talk about it, but if you ever need someone to talk to…I'm here."

I swiveled my head away from the mirror to look into her sympathetic eyes. Since when did Jessica care about anything but herself or the latest juicy gossip?

"Th-thanks?" it was more of a question. Why was everyone behaving so oddly? Did I really miss that much these past months?

I turned back to the sink, lowering my face toward the faucet as I gathered water in my hands. My throat was incredibly dry, as if I had been screaming for hours.

Jessica shifted her weight awkwardly from foot to foot. This must've been very hard for her, to keep herself from inquiring as to why I was acting so strangely. Not that I could even answer that question myself.

"Umm…thanks Jessica. I think I can take it from here." I filled my cupped hands with more water and splashed it on my face, the chilling water not feeling particularly cold against my skin. I only knew its temperature from previous experience.

I sighed as the door to the bathroom opened a few minutes later, not really wanting the silence to be interrupted. Usually I hated the silence, but it was slightly better than listening to the conversations of my peers. I was definitely surprised to see Jessica again.

"I brought you your stuff... I figured you wouldn't be coming back to class," she said shyly, leaving my backpack by the door. Before I had a chance to respond, she was gone. My brows knit together as I stared at one of the zippers on my backpack.

Not only was it weird that Jessica was being so kind, but that wasn't _my _backpack…

My backpack was tattered and worn from years of use. Not this brand new one covered in magenta flowers. I unzipped the zipper to the biggest pouch, becoming even more confused as I recognized my notebook and utensils.

Had Jessica switched everything from my old backpack into this new one?

The bell rang then and I heard the steps and giggles of girls as they grew closer. Quickly depositing my stuff back into the bag, I walked back to the classroom, carefully avoiding the other students who were rushing to lunch.

I sighed as I noted that all the lights in the classroom had been turned off. Yanking on the door handle to ensure it was in fact locked, I decided to continue to use the bag for the day and to just return it to Jessica tomorrow. I was never comfortable with accepting gifts.

Maybe that was why she had been acting so strangely. She was waiting for me to notice the new gift… But why did she give it to me?

I pondered this as I started walking towards the cafeteria. Before making my way to my sanctuary, I decided to chance a peek in there in the hopes of seeing a not so familiar face. My eyes scanned the room, barely taking in the sea of faces, until they landed on _their _table.

Empty.

The table appeared untouched, like a memorable building, kept preserved from everything but the factor of time. It had been so long since I gazed upon the Mount Olympus of Fork's High. For the first month after his departure, my eyes were fixated on it—just waiting for the Gods to return.

Aphrodite—with her otherworldly beauty, Ares—with his thirst for battle, Eros—with his influence over the emotions of others, Athena—with her omniscience and wisdom, and the God of all gods—Zeus.

But those thirty odd days came and went, yielding nothing but an eerie silence.

I hated the silence.

The silence reminded me that I was alone, doomed to walk this world in an in-between state. I wasn't living, but I was still breathing.

Still…for all intensive purposes, I was dead.

Pulling the strap of the backpack I was temporarily using up, I left my spot of observation to go to the library. Breathing a sigh of relief that was both soothing and heartbreaking, I found my usual seat among the books. I won't admit to myself that I was secretly hoping to find someone doing something as simple as checking out a book.

That was when anxiety hit.

How would he react this time?

Yesterday hadn't gone so well and who knows what kind of cruel words would be thrown in my direction today. Or worse yet…

Would he even be there?

Shaking my head, I almost jumped for joy when the bell rang. It wouldn't matter how he treated me, as long as I got my chance to see him.

Mr. Banner gave me a weird look as I entered the almost completely empty room. He must have thought it was odd for me to be here so early. My eyes wandered to _our _table and I could feel the depression slowly seeping in.

I sauntered over to sit at the empty table. His chair was pulled away slightly from the table, no doubt from its last occupant. It irritated me to imagine someone else sitting there, soaking up whatever may have remained of his presence from the day before.

The scene played before my eyes—an ordinary, average, unspecial human converting the beauty that I associated with this table into the same bland and uselessness I had grown accustomed to months ago. To call whoever was the thief a waste of space, would be completely unjust. No matter how annoyed I was with this unknown person, _I_ was the true waste of space.

Clogging up the flow of air with my shallow and painful breaths, poisoning the lives of those around me with my despair—there was absolutely no point to my existence without him in my life.

The silence beside me brought up a new question, a new possibility that until this moment, I had been trying to prevent myself from thinking about.

_He isn't really back. _

What if I had imagined it all?

The evidence was staggering and firmly supported this idea. There was no reason for him to return, except maybe the convenient weather.

Maybe I was starting to lose my mind.

I was already having much too vivid dreams…maybe this was the next stage.

Full on hallucinations.

The warning bell chimed and I tried to keep an indifferent expression upon my face. I tried to ignore the fact that his presence would determine the answer to one of the biggest questions of my life.

Should I even bother?

Should I bother to continue living such a hollow life? Should I bother waking every morning from terrifying nightmares that won't allow me to forget the pain? Should I bother applying this mask every single day just to please Charlie? Should I?

The final bell rang loud and clear—the answer to all those questions.

No.

---

My heart continued its steady rhythm—never losing control and never stopping, determined to persevere through the pointlessness and the pain.

Why? After all the anguish and loss…why insist upon beating so?

Why brace myself for years of lonely torment, when I could end it all right now? Skip over the poison of the residue of my heartache.

Try a new poison. A new poison that won't slowly destroy my physical form like this heartache. It would be much, much quicker.

I ran to my room, digging under my bed until I found what I was looking for. Trailing my fingertips over the carving, I slowly lifted the lid. A familiar tune began to play and I cringed at the sound. I didn't listen to music anymore…especially a song so full of emotion. A song full of far too much meaning now that I think of it.

It was a jewelry box Renee had given me our first trip to Disneyland when I was ten. Unfortunately, the flu had been going around at school and I got sick. We already had the airline tickets, the hotel booked, and the tickets to the park paid for, so there wasn't any chance of rescheduling.

Due to my being ill, she had to leave me at the hotel while she went to the park. While there, she saw this music box. She told me that Belle from Beauty and the Beast reminded her of me, with her long brown hair and brown eyes. Within the box, there was a small figurine of her wearing her yellow gown, twirling in circles to the music flowing from below.

Lifting up the false bottom, I gasped when I noticed it was gone.

The cyanide pill I had been saving was gone.

I knew I hadn't moved it. That could only mean one thing…

Charlie.

My breathing halted as I strained my ears to hear his police cruiser pulling up into the driveway. I heard nothing. I began to panic as I wondered how long it had actually been missing. The last time I had seen it, was…

My dream.

I could feel my blood boil as I recalled having it in my dream. The dream that used to bring me comfort, but not any longer.

Now I was just angry.

I should have known that as my body began to deteriorate, my mind would follow. I was tired of and irritated with these tricks my mind insisted on playing. Slamming the case shut and throwing in on my bed, I started to pace as I considered my options.

If Charlie did in fact know, it was likely he planned to send me somewhere. Whether it was to jail, back to Phoenix, or to a therapist, I didn't know. But one thing was certain: it wouldn't be pleasant and it would interfere with my plans.

I needed to act and it needed to be soon.

---

When death becomes a better option than living, the mental and physical changes are monumental.

To taste a delicious soufflé, but feel like you're just licking the dirt off the bottom of your shoe. To see a vibrant work of art by some renowned artist, but instead you see a boring page that is colored in decay. To hear a magnificent orchestra, but feel your eardrums burn with the scraping of nails on a chalk board.

It also allows you to see things a little clearer.

I had a sudden uneasy feeling that I was being watched, but quickly shook it off. Nothing would ever venture to my window again.

The steps came much easier than I would have expected. My limbs didn't lock up as I entered the bathroom and turned on the faucet in the bathtub. After the water had sufficiently heated up, I placed the plug in the drain.

Sitting on the side of the tub, I had time to think. This was the exact type of time I loathed almost as much as myself. It was in this type of free time that I was able to consider what was missing from my life and how stupid I was.

To actually believe he had returned.

Turning off the water to prevent any of it from overflowing, I removed my shoes and socks. I would keep everything else on, for I would hate to be found in such a way. I would say the blush would kill me…

But hopefully I would no longer have the ability to blush.

Stepping in carefully to prevent any mishaps, I lowered myself into the tub. If I accidentally slipped and hit my head, there was a good chance I would be rushed to the hospital and be revived.

I couldn't have that.

Removing my hair tie to make this a little more comfortable, I allowed the water to cover every inch of my body, apart from my face.

I could hear that tiny voice in my head, pleading. _Just wait._

For what? For Charlie to remove me from my chosen grave? Wait for him to lock me up and put me on suicide watch? Wait to watch everything I had ever dreamed of slip through my fingertips?

There's no need to wait for that last one to come true.

The water covered my face quickly as I slumped down further into the tub. I was holding my breath, but eventually that ran out. I could feel my lungs ache from the lack of air and out of pure reflex; I rose slightly to gulp in fresh air.

Damn it.

I laid there for what must have been hours; never staying fully submerged passed a minute or so. The water had chilled and I began to shiver. I sighed as I lifted my body up with wrinkly fingers.

_Coward._


	5. Chapter 4: Cause and Effect

**Disclaimer: Twilight and all of its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The plot is mine.**

Chapter 4: Cause and Effect

Song: "Whisper" –_Evanescence_

_No one's here and I fall into myself_

_This truth drives me into madness._

***

Sleep evaded me as I fought the brink of nightmares threatening to torture me with unpleasant images. My eyelids seemed to weigh a ton, but I strained to keep them open.

I was unable to go through with it. So many things were ushering me forward, but there were also so many things holding me back from taking the plunge.

The problem was just working up the nerve to do it.

I felt weak and cowardly. For something I had wanted for so long…why was it so hard to do the deed? Shouldn't it have been simple, quick, and easy?

Why was I having conflicting thoughts about a decision I knew in my heart was right?

That large gaping hole in my heart was the only proof I needed, to know that this is the correct path. But then there just had to be a fork in the road.

Going to the right would ensure everlasting relief and would deliver me from this pointless existence. Unfortunately, the day I had chosen to finally venture down that correct path, the _only _path, a new direction was introduced.

Should I go left?

To live a life that consists of wading through my waking nightmare seems awfully troublesome without some sort of consolation prize. There were only two things that could keep me from taking the path I should take, to travel down the rocky left path.

Fear and _him_.

My cowardice would keep me alive a little longer, but I wasn't naïve enough to believe that it would last. There was only one thing that could truly influence me to put my plans on hold.

And he was gone.

Staring at my ceiling for hours, I got out of bed and decided to do a little cleaning. I wasn't going to bother with school today and I needed some sort of distraction. Swiping a finger on the screen of Charlie's television, I noticed a layer of dust. It doesn't take long for dust to accumulate, but by the amount on my finger, I knew it hadn't been cleaned as recent as Monday.

Stupid dream.

Stupid fake promises of freedom and contentment.

Stupid malfunctioning mental capacity.

Spraying Windex on the screen, I wiped the dust away angrily as my reflection grew clearer.

I don't hate anyone as much as I hate that person staring back at me.

_It was all your fault_, I whispered in defeat, dropping the rag on the floor.

I kneeled down to pick up the rag, but just ended up lying on my back. The carpeted floor didn't feel particularly comfortable, but I couldn't find the strength to move. Tears trailed down my cheeks silently as I stared at the stucco ceiling.

He left because he was tired of living a lie. He was tired of my humanity.

This frail body filled with pulsing veins, the rise of heat to my cheeks, these salty tears upon my face—they drove him away.

He left because he was bored of me.

This mind, these words these lips spoke—they drove him away.

Everything that makes me who I am…that makes me Bella Swan…drove him away.

The most important thing in my life…_and I ruined it_.

My hands flew to my hair, entangling in the faded strands and yanking them roughly as I cried out in pain.

There is nothing worse than being the reason for your own pain.

If it had been something else, if there had been some other reason for his departure apart from his distaste in me, I could have diverted part of the weight of the pain.

I carry all the weight. I am the cause to this effect. There is no one to blame but myself.

Tilting my head back, I was surprised to see a new piece of furniture. Flipping over onto my knees, I crawled over to the dark brown wooden cabinet atop an end table pressed up against the wall. There was a small lock on one of the doors and I wondered if I would need a key to ease my curiosity by peering inside. Pulling on one of the handles, I heard a small click before it creaked open.

There were three shelves of green velvet similar to a pool table, each supporting a row of bottles varying in size and type. I recognized some of them from when Renee got into wine tasting, though most of the time she would just settle for hard liquor. She didn't become an alcoholic or anything, but she liked the idea of being a bartender. Picking up one of the bottles tentatively, I stood there considering the weight of what I _could do_ with the weight of the bottle.

There was something soothing about being in an alcohol induced haze.

Shaking my head, I tried to ignore my thoughts as I put the bottle back. After shutting the cabinet door, I turned around to continue my cleaning. I stopped mid-step and turned back to gaze at the cabinet.

This is wrong. I shouldn't even be thinking about it. I should just go back to dusting and forget about this unintelligent thought.

Refusing to look away, my eyes stayed glued to the cabinet as I continued to walk away.

That terrible elixir that caused my body pain as I wretched... That forbidden apple whose juice is so very sweet in quality, but bitter as it doubles as a rotten apple.

I would like to say I could resist the temptation of that forbidden apple, but I was too weak.

Throwing common sense and good judgment out the window, I closed the distance between myself and the cabinet. My fingers found a round bottle of clear liquid before I entered the kitchen. Removing the cap, I took a small sip to gauge my vomit reflexes.

The smell of alcohol burned my nostrils, burned my throat, and made my stomach churn. Still, this one didn't seem as bad as the whiskey I drank that first night. Glancing at the label, I discovered that what I had chosen this time was Vodka.

Taking another sip, I realized it would be too difficult to drink from the bottle with my stomach in its current condition. Although Renee didn't want me drinking any of her alcoholic concoctions—not that I ever expressed any desire to—she did like to use me as a guinea pig for her _virgin _mixtures. She said the only difference between the two is that one has alcohol and the other doesn't.

Opening the fridge, I noted that I would need to make a trip to the store to purchase food for Charlie. The bareness became mocking as I realized it had been quite a while since I had eaten. Feeling suddenly weary with hunger, I grabbed one of the only items left—an apple. Bringing the vibrant red to my lips, I sunk my teeth in, feeling the juice leak as I broke the skin.

The taste was phenomenal after giving up the need for food for so long and I didn't pause as the juice trickled down my bottom lip. One of my thoughts from only a moment ago came back to me as I took another bite.

_That forbidden apple whose juice is so very sweet in quality, but bitter as it doubles as a rotten apple. _

This thought was true even in the literal sense because I knew this would only make me hungrier and would cause my stomach more pain later. It was both delicious and vomit inducing.

I made a little moan of enjoyment as the pieces of apple and juice slid down my throat. Once only the core remained, I deposited it in the trash and went back to the fridge. I needed something to offset the foul taste of the alcohol, which would help put off spending hours at the toilet. There really wasn't much lining the shelves, but I did find some juice that looked promising.

"Cranberry Black Cherry," my voice cracked from the hours of crying and the lack of use.

Clearing my throat, I opened the cupboard and removed a glass that was small in height, but not in width. The missing whiskey bottle sang of possible repercussions, but I shut the cupboard before it could bother me too much.

_I have made my decision and one should always follow through,_ I thought bitterly as I recalled my choice to die, but my inability to end my life.

I wasn't sure how much of the taste the juice would cover up or how much Vodka I should use, so I took a chance with a fourth of alcohol. I pulled out a spoon and used it to stir my drink before taking a sip.

"Mmm…" I could barely even taste the Vodka amidst the juice's flavor.

The glass was empty a couple minutes later and I finished my second glass in less time than the first. I licked my lips, tasting the cranberry, black cherry, and the feeling of a slight numbness. In my next glass, I decided to increase the amount of alcohol since I was fairing so well so far. This glass took me a little longer to drink, but it still wasn't bad. Not bad at all.

My fingers tingled and my numb lips were grazed with a lazy smile. I couldn't help, but giggle when I realized I shouldn't be able to feel the smile if my lips were numb.

I gazed at the bottle of Vodka in awe as I reveled on my newfound joy. I hadn't been able to produce a real smile in a long time, let alone laugh.

The best part was that the more numb my lips became, the less clouded my mind was and the less the despair in my heart bothered me. I could laugh freely and even began to twirl around in circles in my shallow happiness. Not too fast though, for I knew it would only speed up the arrival of vomit.

Currently, half of my glass held alcohol. After I downed the glass, I giggled even more as I twirled faster.

Everything was a blur of colors and giggles and hair as I lost my footing and fell onto the ground. Fortunately for me, I had moved to the living room so my head was cushioned as I collapsed onto the carpet.

Panting in between giggles, I laid there trying to take in my surroundings. My breath caught in my throat as I noticed someone standing over me.

An angelic figure stood above me, the light from the kitchen filtering partially through the tips of his hair to create an even more beautiful color. It appeared as if the light was shining off his skin in an outline of his body. Every other part of him was bathed in shadow, bringing out his paleness and the deep purple undertone of his skin. He was wearing a loose, but somehow still perfectly fitted gray shirt and black jeans that hung loosely around his hips. His feet were completely bare, resting upon the carpet.

The room was dead silent as we stared at each other, but his expression cured that when I couldn't stop a giggle from slipping out. Covering my mouth quickly with my hands, I stared at him with wide repentant eyes.

I don't know whether I was expecting to get yelled at for laughing at him, but he merely tilted his head to the side in curiosity. My laughter filled the room as he just stood there looking at me. I sat up a little too quickly and wrapped my arms around my legs to stay upright.

"Hi," I said shyly. He still hadn't spoken yet.

We continued to stare at each other for an immeasurable amount of time. His eyes followed my every movement—when I laid my head on my knees, when I licked my lips involuntarily, when I started humming Claire De Lune—like he was seeking answers to some important question.

Even in my drunken state, the silence was anything but comforting.

_Why are you staring at me? _I thought nervously, chewing on my bottom lip.

"I'm trying to figure you out."

If I hadn't seen his lips move, I would have thought I imagined it.

_Wait… Did you just read my mind? _

He was silent for several minutes before he spoke again. "No Isabella… You were speaking aloud, not thinking. It seems the alcohol has affected your ability to refrain from speaking your thoughts," he smirked, as if this bit of information was some sort of trophy he could place upon a shelf to admire.

"Why do you keep calling me that?" I hadn't really noticed until now, but a lot of people were calling me Isabella lately. I thought I had made it clear that I preferred Bella.

"It is your name," he replied hesitantly, glancing at the partially drained Vodka bottle.

"No it isn't," I argued. Technically it is, but I hate being called by my formal name.

I tried to stand, but again my movements were much too quick. As the dizziness consumed me, I lost my balance and began to fall forward—my head going straight for the edge of the coffee table. I screamed as a pair of arms encircled my waist, pulling me back to my feet. The electricity was a little overwhelming, shocking me all the way from my tingling fingers to my tingling toes.

Once I was standing steadily, I tried to squirm out of his embrace. He seemed reluctant to let me go, but eventually he complied. With my freedom, I scurried back into the kitchen, laughing the whole way at nothing in particular. Abandoning the glass, I pressed my lips to the opening of the bottle.

"I think you've had enough."

Pausing before the alcohol hit my tongue, I looked to my left to see him now standing a foot away. Knowing that I was behaving like a child, I stuck my tongue out at him before gulping down more Vodka.

His expression became one of annoyance as he spoke, "What is your name?"

I resisted the urge to laugh at such a funny question, but quickly failed. Gripping the bottle securely in my right hand, I ran around him, heading for the stairs. Seeing the top of the stairs only a couple of steps away, I began grinning in triumph. I didn't really expect him to follow me, so I was surprised when he appeared on the next step.

His perfectly formed hands wrapped around each of my wrists in a vice-like grip. His perplexing green eyes that were also slightly tinted in red bore into mine in an intensity that I hadn't seen in such a long time.

"What is your name?" he asked again, like it was of vital importance.

My eyes widened as I allowed every inch of his beautiful face to dazzle me.

"Bella," I whispered—all traces of humor gone.

I'm not sure what it was, but when his touch mingled with the effects of the alcohol present in my system, my heart began thumping loud broken beats.

Although the numb feeling in my body remained, the slash in my heart began to sear painfully, causing me to flinch underneath his gaze. My breathing became labored as I fought hyperventilation.

His brows drew together, whether in response to my answer or the way my body was now reacting, I did not know. Tears began to pool in my eyes as my body shook violently. I couldn't really speak with my heavy breathing, but I did manage to choke out in a strangled sob, "_Please._"

Eyes widening, his hands immediately left my wrists as if the contact with my skin had burned him. Without saying another word, I took a step back. My body shook as I became enveloped in darkness, feeling only a small rush of air hitting my back before I gave into it.

**A/N: This one was a bit shorter. There wasn't really any reason for me to expand on her cleaning or her hours in bed. You may notice that after she starts drinking, she's a little less contemplative about everything. That was intentional. This story has been getting a lot more attention than I expected it would, and you have no idea how happy that makes me. **

**Thank you so much for reviewing. Honestly, that's most of the reason I've been updating this so frequently. Also, I seem to always be in the correct mindset for writing angst. **


	6. Chapter 5: The Catalyst

**Disclaimer: Twilight and all of its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The plot is mine.**

**A/N: I am happy to announce that this story has been nominated for The Indie TwiFic Awards. Whoever nominated it, I love you. If you enjoy this story, please show some support by voting for Sweet Relief as **_**Most Original Story Line WIP.**_** The link to the website is on my profile. Make sure to vote 7/8 – 7/12. Thank you.**

Chapter 5: The Catalyst

Song: "Until the End" –_Breaking Benjamin_

_Surround me, it's easy, to fall apart completely._

***

_Bella._

Running.

_Bella._

Running. Can't stop.

_Bella._

I took a sharp turn to the right, accidentally propelling myself into a tree, the bark scraping along my arms and legs. Falling backwards from the force of impact, the wind was knocked out of me. That was when I heard it again.

"_Bella._" It was just a whisper flowing through the trees, latched onto a slight breeze.

A moment later, I was back on my feet—running again. This part of the forest was new and strange. There were vines littered across the path and towering weeping willows on either side. The sky was dark, but there weren't any stars. It should have been impossible to see, but I could.

The trees grew taller and more threatening as they swayed in the whispering breeze. The vines appeared more sinister in their disarray and the voice more desperate.

"_Bella._"

My lips parted to answer, but not a sound slipped out. I was still running when I felt something wrap around my ankle.

"EDWARD!" I screamed, finally able to speak as a vine pulled me down and slithered up my leg. I winced as one of the vine's thorns sliced into my leg, before stopping at my upper thigh.

Another vine wrapped around my other ankle and I thrashed as I continued screaming for him. This time it slid around both my legs, binding them together tightly to cease my kicking. I flipped onto my back, trying to rip the vines away from my shivering skin. The vine just continued, moving so swiftly that I didn't have enough time to move my hands before it bound my wrists to my upper thighs.

"EDWARD!" I screamed again, squirming until I was back on my stomach. The vine was now passed my shoulders and was slowly encircling my neck. I couldn't breathe.

It slid up my neck and gradually moved across my cheek.

"BELLA!"

I was jolted awake by a loud boom of thunder. Despite the sweat matting my hair to my forehead, I was shivering violently. The stormy weather made its presence known once more as the curtains hanging before my open window fluttered in the breeze. Rain pounded through that opening, soaking everything in the window's path.

"What a night," I groaned, pressing the palm of my hand into my forehead while untwining myself from my blankets. Standing on shaky legs, I grunted as I forced the window shut. I stumbled to the bathroom, relieving my bladder before splashing cold water onto my face.

Queasiness and ache were the most prominent feelings within my body as I stared at my reflection in disgust for what I saw staring back and for what swirled around in my stomach. It didn't matter how I had gotten to my bed or when I had opened my window. I just didn't care.

The smell of alcohol lingered on my breath so I brushed the minty paste throughout my mouth, taking extra time to scrape my tongue while trying not to gag. My hair was disheveled and gross so I hopped into the shower, rinsing away last night. It didn't matter how rough or persistently I scrubbed, the soap didn't cleanse my body in the way I wanted.

It was wrong for me to go snooping in that cabinet. It was wrong for me to drink that bottle. These vivid dreams I kept having of _him _were also _wrong._ Still no matter hard I try…I just don't care.

There was guilt and pain, as there always was, but there was something new this morning. Indifference.

I didn't really feel anything.

This absence of feeling was so secure, like a warm blanket wrapped tightly around my body. So tightly in fact that most of my circulation was being cut off, almost to the point of suffocation, but never reaching such an extreme. Instead, I hovered in a sort of limbo where everything was at a standstill.

It didn't matter that I was slowly developing a nasty habit, or that there would be severe repercussions whenever Charlie returned and saw what I had done. It just didn't matter.

Reaching unseeingly into my closet, I removed a shirt. I fiddled with the soft fabric, wondering where it had come from. Not really owning anything this pretty, I was suspicious of how it ended up in my closet. Renee must have sent it because Charlie wouldn't buy something like this for me. Well, any clothes really.

It was a black shirt with long sleeves that didn't stop until my knuckles. The neck plunged a bit too much for my liking, but it would have to do. Besides, it felt so comfortable covering my skin. The fabric must have been velvet, with its pleasant texture. The rest of the outfit was easy to find—especially when being "fashionable" are the least of your worries.

Vaguely aware that today was now Friday, I resigned myself to attend school. Now that I was accepting this lifestyle, I needed to stop drawing attention to myself. If my extensive amount of absences hadn't already caught any of the administrative staff's notice, then it was only a matter of time if I kept this up.

I wondered how long this resolve would hold before it too, was thrown out the window.

…

Shifting uncomfortably in my seat, I used my hair as a veil to cover my chest. In truth, there was only slightly more skin visible today than usual, but I was paranoid. The roaming eyes of my peers weren't helping.

"Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in," a scathing voice hissed from my right. Something about it seemed familiar, but I couldn't match the voice with the tone. A glance at its origin told me why.

I barely recognized her face beneath all the make-up layered across her eyes, cheeks, and lips—which were hot pink. Instead of her usually timid outfit, she wore a matching hot pink mini skirt that barely concealed her thighs and a very tight white tank top. The only thing on her body that was even remotely appropriate for winter was her furry white boots.

Her appearance was flashy like she was about to participate in a music video accompanied with vulgar dancing. She licked her lips before blowing a bubble with her chewing gum, the "pop" not appearing to have disturbed anyone.

"Angela?" I asked doubtfully, knowing I was right in her identity, but still needing some sort of confirmation. Or denial.

"Surprised?"

"A little," I admitted. Did she realize how different she looked?

"No one else is. Everyone always knew we'd be together," she said as she removed a compact from her bag.

"I'm glad you and Ben are going so well…" I said slowly. They made a great couple, but there was something off about the way she was boasting.

She diverted her eyes from her reflection to stare wide eyed at me. "Ben Cheney?" she asked in disbelief, like I had just suggested that the world is indeed flat. "Who the hell told you that!?" she shrieked, glancing around the room.

"I—"

"I'm dating Mike."

I wanted to ask her what had happened to Ben, but I was so shocked that I was only able to blurt, "What?"

"Does that information hurt you, _Izzy_?" she smirked.

"No…" I answered with a raised eyebrow. I guess I would have missed Ben if I had even acknowledged his presence the passed couple months. The lack of attachment should have made me feel guilty, but I didn't. And why did she just call me Izzy?

"How about knowing that we kissed Monday night? Long and _hard_…" from the expression on her face, she looked close to cackling maniacally. I resisted cringing at her description of their kiss.

"Umm…good for you?" I really wasn't sure what else to say. Angela and Mike? Never would I have ever considered that to be a possible match. Angela was always so quiet and shy. She also had the biggest crush on Ben. How things had changed…

Snapping her compact shut, she turned fully in her chair. Her eyes narrowed, "You're no fun when you're like this," she grumbled and faced forwards.

Class drifted on uneventfully as we worked on simple differential equations. The reason they were easy for me to solve was likely because of all the time I had put into studying. Calculus was no longer a difficult subject for me. I should probably be proud, but I'm not.

I had time to think about how much Angela had changed. Everywhere I look, I find a change in behavior and appearance. Had I been gone that long? Was I really missing this much while I was hidden away deep inside myself, mourning the loss of my love?

As Calculus became History, I took my lack of busy work (we were reading a chapter in which I had already read) as time to think about what I would do for the rest of the day. Glancing at the new backpack next to my seat, I remembered I needed to have a talk with Jessica when I got to Spanish.

Lunch would be after that, but that wasn't terribly important. The following hour was.

I would go to Chemistry to bask in disappointment. Then I would come home and drown that sorrow with the first bottle of liquor to graze my fingertips. I could already see a vicious cycle just waiting to be implemented. Today would be the beginning to an inebriated end.

It was finally time for Spanish and I grimaced as I walked over to her seat to initiate a conversation I would have preferred to avoid altogether.

Her eyes widened as she looked up at my throat clearing. "Bella?" At least someone knew my name.

"Hey Jess…" I trailed off, not sure how to tell her I couldn't accept the new backpack. She didn't speak, but only waited for me to continue, obviously knowing I was here with a purpose and not for mindless chatter. I decided that there wasn't going to be an easy way to do this, so I might as well just get it over with.

"So I appreciate the thought, but I can't accept this," I said, lifting the bag to her eye level. She stared at it for a moment before looking back to me. She looked confused at first, but that expression was soon replaced with understanding.

"That wasn't from me..." she said slowly, shaking her head.

I glanced back at the bag. "But you brought it to me in the bathroom before you left the other day?" it was more of a question.

"I did," she confirmed, nodding her head.

"Did someone else…" I trailed off, not knowing who might have tried to sneak me a gift. I had become so detached that I wasn't sure who could possibly still consider me a friend, let alone have the desire to give me presents.

"That was the bag you walked into class with," she said, apologetically.

"I guess Charlie must've…," I voiced my unfinished thought aloud. At my words, Jessica looked even more concerned. I guess it wasn't very cool of me to have my father pick out my backpack.

Lowering my gift, I found my seat without another word. I was grateful she didn't choose to poke fun at my lack of eyesight. How long had I carried this bag around before I noticed the difference?

Jessica spent the rest of class shooting me worried glances every couple minutes. I didn't really understand what the big deal was. So what if my father had bought me a backpack? It wasn't like he had picked out my outfits or anything—not that I pay much attention to what I wear nowadays.

Spanish then became lunch and I found myself seated among the cold and emotionless books of my sanctuary. Time moved quickly today, for which I was grateful. Soon my relief would be burning down my throat.

The bell signaling the end of lunch caught my attention. There were various pages of Calculus notes occupying the floor, for I had decided to get a jump on my homework. Tonight's festivities were sure to deplete my time for working on it.

The almost completed homework assignment glared back at me when I remembered today was Friday. That would mean a weekend with less to do than usual. I sighed, shoving the pages back in my binder and then in _my _backpack.

I was headed for the catalyst. Headed to the thing that would push me over the edge—the thing that would allow me to commit myself to this new chosen lifestyle.

As I stepped through the doorway, my gaze sought out his seat while I braced myself for the onslaught of sadness. My breath caught in my throat when they finally landed upon it.

His seat wasn't empty today.

There were complaints coming from behind me, but my ears only registered a buzzing annoyance. Taking slow and fearful steps, my feet drug my body away from where I must have left my lungs, guiding me closer to the cause of my loss of breath.

While crossing the classroom, my eyes darted around wildly in a poor attempt to ensure that this was real, but they always retreated back to his seat before more than a couple seconds could pass.

My eyes took in his appearance hungrily, memorizing each and every detail like he would disappear at any second. A blush rose to my cheeks as I realized my gaze was probably ravaging and inappropriate in the current setting.

There was some lust, as there always was when I gazed upon Edward, but it was minimal. The majority of my gaze was one of longing and filled with a passion I hadn't felt for so long it was a foreign feeling. If not for having already reached my seat, I was sure I would have collapsed from the way my legs were shaking. The urge to dig my fingertips into his tight shirt and cling to him with as much force as I could possibly muster was so strong that my body grew rigid with the effort to remain seated.

His presence was almost too much to take as it burned my senses. Such a glorious sight was never meant to be seen by mortal eyes, let alone by my dull dead ones.

Now that I was seated so close, I felt foolish for ever believing my mind had the capacity to recreate this in the form of a hallucination.

His eyes were trained on the board in front, appearing oblivious to my existence. If I hadn't been watching his face so intensely, I would have missed when his gaze shifted slightly toward me. There weren't any pleasantries. Neither of us said anything, we were cemented in this awkward silence. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife and I wanted so badly to speak, but I was afraid he would disappear if I disturbed him.

_Is this real? _I found myself wondering, regardless of my inability to imagine such a glorious thing.

My mind told me he was just an illusion—sent to torment me, but my heart's painful throbbing was too loud to ignore.

Trying to coax my body down from its forceful reactions, I took a deep breath, tasting the air which consisted a great deal of Edward. Cheering gratefully, my lungs continued to pull deep breaths in, enjoying the comforting effect.

Unconsciously, I began leaning toward him, his scent becoming far too tempting to stay away. He must have sensed what I was doing because he abruptly turned his head to look at me with incredulous eyebrows.

Seeing his eyes—which were a shocking emerald today—snapped me out of it, my body tensing as I returned to my previous position before scooting further away from him. His gaze lingered for a moment in curiosity, before his expression was replaced with annoyance and he turned away.

"Miss Swan, if you'd be kind enough to stop ogling Mr. Cullen," I jerked my head forward when I heard my name, my face burning as the following words hit me, "I would appreciate it if you could explain why a liquid would begin to boil?"

All eyes were on me and although I knew the answer, I found myself unable to speak. I cleared my throat and tried to swallow the lump that had formed there, but it proved impossible at the moment.

"What about you Mr. Cullen? Since Miss Swan here seems to find herself speechless at your very presence…maybe you could shed come light on the subject?" he sneered, narrowing his eyes at me.

I cringed under his hateful glare, wondering what I had done to warrant such a reaction from Mr. Banner. He was always such a happy and energetic teacher, I found it hard to believe my failure to answer his question could make him act this way.

"When a liquid is heated to a temperature at which particles throughout the liquid have enough kinetic energy to vaporize, the liquid begins to boil," he answered, the words rolling off his tongue like they were lyrics to a song rather than an explanation to a Chemistry question.

"Spoken word for word from the book, as always," Mr. Banner said dryly, switching on the overhead to reveal a full page of notes in the smallest readable font available. He shut off half the lights in the room before sitting behind his desk.

Chancing a glance at Edward, I grew stiff when I was met with his hateful gaze. A gaze so filled with loathing that I wasn't sure if I wanted to cry or scream at him. It was in this moment that I vowed never to let him see me cry again.

I was scribbling down the notes off the overhead when I noticed the electricity that seemed to be coming off the person next to me. It had been a long time since I had that feeling and although I should probably have just kept my mouth shut and enjoyed it, I couldn't resist making a snide comment.

Without taking my eyes off the overhead or my notebook, I began to tease him. "You can stare as long as you want, but that doesn't mean you're going to be able to hear them." I have never been happier that he could not hear my thoughts. I didn't want him to get any satisfaction out of the knowledge of what his presence is doing to me. Though I'm pretty sure he could hear my erratic heartbeat.

"Hear what?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

"My thoughts."

He stared at me for a moment before catching himself and letting out one humorless chuckle. "Alright. Someone cracked into the gin a little early today…" Could he know what I have been doing in the privacy of my home?

"Don't insult my intelligence," I snapped. It was one thing for him to ignore me or even to dislike me, but it was another for him to try to pretend I was crazy. Enough time hadn't passed yet for me to forget.

I doubted enough time could ever pass.

Ignoring his hatred, I reveled in being seated so close to him. Just being around him made it easier to live, but at the same time, harder. Having him to look forward to gave my lungs the ability to do their duty, but his revulsion only made my heart ache more. When he left, he claimed it was because he was bored of me and tired of pretending. But for reasons that for me are a mystery, he now detests me.

Still, just the mere fact that he was back showed that I wasn't so unbearably annoying that he couldn't coexist with me. I guess he could handle being around me—if only in small doses. I would in turn, take these doses of him—_my drug_.

"You insult your own intelligence with what you do in this class," he mumbled. I wasn't sure if I was meant to hear, although I knew he could have spoken too softly for my ears to pick up the words.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked. Confusion seemed to be my primary emotion these days. Besides the depression.

He huffed and shifted so that his face was barely twisted from the notes to look at me. Chewing on my bottom lip, I waited for whatever insults he was about to assault me with. He was silent for a moment, his eyes fixated on my face with furrowed brows. He appeared to be searching my face for something. It was as if he was studying me, dissecting me down to the composition of my bones. Once his gaze moved to my bottom lip, my face became scarlet.

That rush of color must have snapped him out of his thoughts because the hostility in his face returned. "You take the term _teacher's pet _to a whole new and disgusting level. I honestly don't know how you can look at yourself in the mirror and not feel disgusted."

His words stung and only increased my confusion. "I can't," I answered his second sentence quietly. Not meaning to share that bit of information, I tore my eyes away and returned to my notes. But before I had diverted my attention, I thought I saw pity in his eyes.

My sight was still playing tricks on me.

The thought of that pity only made me feel worse. I didn't want to be pitied. I didn't want him to know the extent of the damage his departure had done.

He was the one stealing my breath, yet he was the one who taught my lungs how to breathe again.

How do you escape something that is both granting you life and causing your death?

You don't.

You don't escape it. You don't leave. You don't run. You don't hide.

You embrace it.

You endure the heartbreak, the scraping of your lungs, like you would endure shoveling that tasteless slop of nutrients down your throat, like you would endure a broken arm rather than saving yourself the hassle by chopping it off.

Because a half life is better than no life.

He was out of his seat a split second before the bell rang. He was out of the classroom before I could even stand. Gathering my stuff into my backpack, I left the room shortly after.

I drifted to my next class with my eyes trained upon the hallway floor—as they had become accustomed to doing—when they met a unique pair of black boots with small spikes positioned strategically on their toes. I glanced up to uncover the identity of the owner of the boots and my eyes met a pair of black ones. Without thinking, I threw myself at her and embraced her in the tightest hug I could muster.

Alice.

A grin stretched across my lips as I resisted the urge to cry from joy. I turned my head to look at her face and my smile fell as I took in her expression of pure hatred. Using her immense strength, she pried my arms off of her easily—pushing me a few feet backwards in the process. I held my breath as her lips parted and she began to speak.

"What the hell are you doing?" she glared. Speechless, I just stared at her. It had never occurred to me that it wasn't just _Edward_ who didn't want me. Maybe Alice was sick of me too.

"Alice?" I choked, feeling as though I might cry if she confirms my suspicions.

"Who else?" She threw her arms up angrily. "You just defiled my whole body, you _skank_. I had better not contract one of your STDs," she spat.

"Alice… It's me," I said brokenly. I knew my appearance had slightly changed since they left all those months ago—maybe she didn't recognize me. Ok that _was_ reaching. Vampires had impeccable memory, but I just couldn't accept the possibility that Alice hated me too.

"I know who you are, _Isabella Swan_," she sneered. "The next time you want to make me vomit, why don't you try—"

"Hello Isabella," Jasper interrupted. He had appeared at Alice's side and was now draping his arm over her tense shoulders with a smile. Alice turned her glare on him and asked, "Really?" with a humorless smirk. He shrugged and I watched as Alice's shoulders relaxed. I could feel my sadness turning into an eerie calm, but the confusion remained.

"Um…hi," I blushed, feeling awkward. The last time he had really smiled at me was my birthday and even then he wasn't as cheery as he is now. Jasper was always so guarded with his emotions in order to maintain control of his thirst. I was fairly certain he hated me for being so clumsy that night, which made his expression even more surprising.

Alice glared at me when she heard my voice. "Sorry Izzy, but no amount of your skankery will convince Jasper to drop his standards enough to consider you."

My eyes widened as the meaning of her words hit me. "What?" I squeaked, my face feeling as if it was on fire. Jasper was an attractive guy, but I thought of him more as a brother—never like _that_.

"Come on Jasper. I definitely need a shower to wash away my encounter with absolute filth," she spoke with more venom than I had ever heard in her musical voice. I knew her words had hurt, but Jasper's ability was keeping me from experiencing the full force of it.

Jasper smiled apologetically at me as Alice tugged on his arm, leading him away from my gaping. I stood there staring at where she had been only moments before, my feet firmly planted on the linoleum floor like they weighed a ton.

Someone nudged me a few minutes later, telling me I'd best get to class. I didn't register the voice or the hand on my arm, I only walked away in a daze to my truck. There was no way I would be able to make it through Gym today.

Throwing the doors open, I trudged through the puddle covered parking lot to my truck. A few feet away from the door to the driver's side, I slipped and fell onto my hands and knees. Cursing lightly under my breath, I laid down on my stomach to reach underneath my truck to grab my keys from where they had slid when I fell.

Now completely soaked, I unlocked my door and climbed into my truck. My entire body was shivering and shaking—it was only a matter of time before I broke down.

After turning on the ignition, my truck roared to life and I waited for an opening in the line of cars leaving the school before I backed out. Several minutes later, I was finally exiting the parking lot and my emotions took over.

The combined force of my tears and the pouring rain negated my ability to see clearly even with my quick moving windshield wipers. If I had not driven this route enough times to do so blindfolded, I would have never found my way home.

It was too much. Everything around me was caving in, squeezing my heart almost to the point of shattering. I had accepted that Edward did not love me and when he left the rest of the Cullens did too, but I never imagined Alice would hate me so. She was like a sister to me and I cared for her deeply. Her sharp words were like a knife in my heart being twisted painfully.

Somehow I found myself in my driveway. Still shaking from her words and the lack of heat, I quickly threw my truck into park and removed my keys from the ignition. Dashing out of my truck, I retrieved the house key from under the easel. The door flew open loudly as I rushed across the carpet to the liquor cabinet, not even bothering to shut and lock the door.

It was ironic what I grabbed, considering Edward had accused me of drinking it earlier.

Another period of Gym, traded for a bottle of gin.

**A/N: The next chapter will pick up directly after this and it WILL reveal what is going on. The unveiling is just taking a bit longer to write and I don't want to rush it.**

**I have decided that I will send a preview of the next chapter to everyone who reviews from now on. If you don't have an account, I won't be able to send it to you.**


	7. Poem: Drip Drip Drip

**A/N: This belongs to **_**me**_**. I wrote it. It is my property. Please don't steal it. I worked really hard and it would break my heart. I'm taking a leap of faith by posting this, please don't betray me.**

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Swift and sleek it ventures down my throat

The taste lingering on my tongue

Flowing through my body with its fiery flame

Extinguishing all ailments, apart from one

Leaving scars in its wake

Permanent marks etched upon my soul

Pools of blood spill out

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Each delicate drop a delicious sip

Of excruciating anguish and pain

You dare not slurp it straight from my veins

For death would come far too quick

And in speed, there is often a lack of benefit

Be patient and wait my love, savor the taste of torment

And when the light inevitably leaves my eyes

I pray to not survive.

**A/N: This poem was inspired by Sweet Relief. Don't worry, you are still getting a chapter on Saturday. Now I really hope you will review this. How about I'll send **_**another **_**preview of Chapter 6 to everyone who does?**


	8. Chapter 6: Doom and Gloom

**Disclaimer: Twilight and all of its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The plot is mine.**

**A/N: I'm speechless. 33 reviews? Wow. I have never gotten that many for a chapter. I'm curious though… As of this moment, there are 77 people with this story alerted. How do you have the will power? When an author offers me a preview of the next chapter in exchange for a review, I can never resist. Hmm. Oh, thought I'd mention…Sweet Relief is beyond the 100 review mark. Wow.**

Chapter 6: Doom and Gloom

Song: "Miracle!" –_Paramore_

_I've gone for too long_

_Living like I'm not alive_

_So I'm going to start over tonight_

_Beginning with you and I._

***

Sparing no time for glasses or juice, I chugged the bottle. My stomach protested and I paused to cough loudly, almost choking. I went to the kitchen just in case. Vomit would be easier to remove from the kitchen's floor than the carpet. I needed to slow down.

But my heart and my head weren't satisfied with the amount I had consumed. They wanted more. Much more.

I took another gulp, still not feeling the effects quite like I wanted to. Slumping down with my back pressing against the kitchen cabinets, I wrapped my arms around my legs, bottle still in hand. My head found my knees and the tears continued to flow.

I wasn't sure how long I had stayed like that—not moving, not drinking, only sobbing—but eventually I felt a pair of cold arms around me. Stiffening, my head shot up to meet the eyes of someone I did not expect.

Rosalie.

By this time my tears had dried up, but I still could not trust what was before me. A wave of calm hit me and my eyes darted around the room until they found another pair I did not expect.

Jasper.

Sniffling, I glanced at the door warily to see that it had been shut and locked. Whether it was to prevent me from escaping or to give us some privacy, I didn't know. Probably a mixture of both.

There are few reasons why Rosalie and Jasper would be here. With Rosalie's strangely comforting arms wrapped around me, I couldn't suppress the feelings of doom and gloom. Rosalie had never really showed me any kindness, just animosity. Sure she had expressed concern in the bathroom the first day I saw Edward, but that had to be a fluke. Really, it had only fueled my belief that I had dreamt everything up. If she was here, trying to soothe _me_, then it must be bad. Very bad.

I sat quietly, waiting for one of them to speak. Usually I didn't like it when Jasper manipulated my emotions, but now I couldn't be anymore grateful. I was tired of always feeling sad and depressed. I welcomed the calming change.

When several minutes went by with them just staring at me, I decided to break the silence.

"Whatever you have to say, just get on with it. I'm sure you guys have better things to do than sit there and watch me fall apart," I rasped. The crying and the liquor only inflicted pain on my throat.

Finally Jasper spoke. "I'm sorry for Alice earlier today," he said slowly, "I've never seen her act that way. Well, at least not as badly as she did today."

Taking a deep breath and allowing the calm he was projecting to wash over me, I found the strength to answer. "It's my fault really. I should've known it wasn't just…_Edward_," I swallowed, tears welling in my eyes despite Jasper's and my own efforts, "I shouldn't have assumed…"

Jasper's eyebrows knit together. "What do you mean?"

"You all hate me." I can't believe he made me say it.

"What?" Rosalie asked with what appeared to be genuine shock. They were very good at masking their emotions, especially with your own personal emotion manipulator standing in the room.

"It's ok Rosalie. You don't have to pretend. _Edward and Alice sure aren't_," I mumbled.

I guess it was Jasper's turn to speak. "Isabella, what are you talking about?"

"Look, I really appreciate you two being so nice to me…really, you have no idea…but I know neither of you like me. I mean it was my fault you all left in the first place and I know how you hate moving."

Rosalie looked like she was about to speak, but I cut her off, directing my words at Jasper. "And it was my fault you lost control. I know it caused a lot of problems between you and the rest of your family. Especially Edward…" _at the time,_ I added silently.

Their eyes were locked together, their lips moving too quickly for me to have any chance of hearing or reading their lips, so I just laid my head back onto my knees. A minute later, I felt a cold hand coaxing my head up. Rosalie was seated on the floor beside me, while Jasper had moved a bit closer.

Rosalie's eyes were gentle as she spoke. "Um Isabella, we haven't left Forks since we moved here." I stared at her. Then Jasper coughed, gathering my attention. "And I have never 'lost control'," he used air quotes.

Although I could feel the confusion and acceptance that Jasper was throwing at me, my own fury and bitterness prevailed. Or maybe it was the alcohol. How I was even able to speak to them about things that had been festering in mind—bringing out my darkest thoughts—was beyond me. It really must have been the gin.

"You are all taking Edward's words _way too seriously. _He said I would forget with time, not that you would all _ignore me_ and pretend _my entire life_ hadn't changed the moment I entered that Biology class and became Edward's lab partner!" I yelled, allowing my anger to surround me and block out the waves of tranquility Jasper was sending toward me.

"Isabella, you've got it all wrong," Rosalie began, "You and Edward were never lab partners in Biology."

This was just getting plain ridiculous. Did they really expect me to buy this? Even with Jasper's ability, did they really expect me to just believe I had imagined it all?

_But wasn't that what you were trying to convince yourself of before? _My thoughts retorted, once again working against me.

Even with the doubt and the insecurities floating through my head, I knew deep down in my bones that what I had shared with Edward had been real. After seeing him today, I knew there was no way I could have dreamt him up because although he was the man of my dreams, my mind did not have the capacity to dream up something so magnificent—something that would surpass any artist's dream.

Still being bombarded with outside emotions, I shot a glare at Jasper. "Oh could you just stop! I want to feel what I'm feeling. Not what _you _want me to feel."

His jaw went slack for a moment, but he quickly regained his composure and snapped his mouth shut. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

I am getting really tired of these games.

"Edward didn't take Biology last year."

We both looked at Rosalie who was fidgeting slightly. _When did Rosalie ever fidget?_

Looking up at me cautiously, she continued, "He was in advanced Biology before we moved to Forks so they let him test his way out. He never took Biology at Fork's High School."

I was speechless. There were other people in that Biology class, not just me. Did they really believe they could just convince me that I had imagined a year of sitting next to Edward?

"Stop it," I whispered.

"Isab—"

"STOP IT!" I shrieked. "You can't make me forget. You can't make me forget. You. Can't. Make. Me. Forget," I repeated, more to myself than to them. I must have sounded like a stubborn child, throwing a tantrum.

"Isabella, it's ok," Rosalie replied, sending worried glances in Jasper's direction.

Looking into their eyes, I knew they weren't going to back down. They were going to continue with their sick game. And I just…lost it.

"NO! It's NOT ok." I stood up, walking toward Jasper. His eyes grew wide, likely sensing my determination and wondering what I was about to do.

Before he could speak, I lifted up my sleeve, revealing the scar I had gotten on my last birthday. "You honestly expect me to believe I imagined this?" I asked incredulously.

Rosalie, moving at a human pace, walked over to us to get a look at my scar. "Isabella what happened?" she asked.

They were still going to keep up their façade. They weren't going to admit that I was right. But I knew one thing they wouldn't be able to explain away.

Bringing up the arm with the scar from James's bite, I pointed at the crescent moon shape. "Care to explain this?" I whispered softly.

Rosalie and Jasper gasped as they took in the sight of my scar. The scar that I had no doubt would forever be upon my body—a constant reminder that Edward's love had outweighed his thirst.

A tear fell off my cheek as I realized that was no longer the case.

Jasper traced the scar with his index finger. "Where did you get that?" he asked, studying my face intently.

"You already know the answer to that."

"Where?" he repeated desperately.

"Don't tell me you don't remember? I spent quite a bit of time with you and Alice before running away to that ballet studio."

"Ballet studio?" he asked in mock confusion.

I sighed, wondering how long this was going to continue before they admitted that I was right. This pointless line of questioning was starting to bother me.

"Yes. James tricked me into going there by pretending to have my mother. Then Edward showed up. While they were fighting, James bit me. Then the rest of your family showed up to finish him off. His venom was already spreading through my body, but Edward didn't want me to become a vampire," I said bitterly. "So he sucked the venom out himself, despite the way my blood calls to him," I finished, with a feeling of pride. I knew Edward could never kill me. Not physically anyway…

It was a very quick explanation that lacked a surplus of details, but I knew their vampire memories wouldn't have any trouble replaying the scene. Glancing up from my scar for the first time since I started my explanation, I saw two pairs of eyes that looked close to popping out of their heads.

"No Rosalie," I heard Jasper mumble, his eyes shifting from me, to her, to my scar over and over.

"Come on Jasper. Look at this," she pointed to my scar," there's no way she could be faking!"

Jasper just shook his head, maintaining the constant shift of his eyes. "This…this isn't possible." I didn't see what was so impossible about it. Humans may not have flawless memories like vampires, but that didn't mean they could just forget something so life changing so soon.

"Isabella, when Angela was talking to you about dating Mike earlier, you didn't appear to be bothered by it," Rosalie said out of the blue.

"I never really pictured those two together so I guess it's a little weird…" I trailed off. I have nothing against Mike; it's just that I didn't think Angela was his type—not counting what happened today. None of that could be relevant right now though.

"She mentioned kissing him Monday night... That didn't bother you?" she questioned, searching my face.

"No. Again a little odd, but it didn't really bother me all that much. Why? Should it have?" I asked, completely lost on where this could be going.

"Jasper?" Rosalie glanced at him with raised eyebrows. Jasper's expression was one of pure concentration as he stared at me.

"Indifference," he answered. The way he was looking at me caused an involuntary blush to color my cheeks. "And now embarrassment?" he added.

"Maybe you should stop staring at her so forcefully," Rosalie chided. Realizing the reason for my blush, he diverted his gaze to my scar. "What about Alice's…?" Rosalie made a pointed glance at me, purposely not finishing her question.

"Alice's vision?" I finished in annoyance.

Both of their heads snapped towards me. I sighed again for the millionth time, getting more irritated with their antics by the second.

"Alice has visions," I pointed at Jasper, "_you _sense and manipulate emotions, and Edward reads minds."

"How did you know all of that?" Jasper asked in wonder. They were really taking this "playing dumb" thing too far.

"Because you told me!" I snapped. Technically they didn't each specifically tell me what their gifts were, but Edward did fill in the blanks. Still, they knew what I meant.

Remembering Rosalie's words, I became curious. "Alice had a vision involving me?" Jasper looked at Rosalie, appearing to be silently debating on whether to tell me. Finally, he grumbled in defeat.

"She had a vision of you and Edward…_together_."

In that instant, it felt like my whole body had shut down. There was nothing. My heart was silent, my breathing had ceased, and I was frozen. The only thing there, were his words.

"Isabella?" Rosalie was looking at me with concern.

The sound of her voice and her golden eyes snapped me out of it. Now as all of my internal organs began to resume function, everything was kicked into overdrive.

"W-what?" I gasped, believing my ears had deceived me. "N-no, that can't b-be. H-he d-doesn't l-love me anymore," I croaked, my eyes stinging with tears. So much for that liquid courage.

Rosalie wrapped her arms around me, placing my head on her shoulder. "Shh. It's ok."

A rush of calm assaulted my anguish, helping the easing of my sobs.

Right now, I live and I breathe for him. Not for Charlie. Not for Renee. They would both be so much happier without me. To be honest, I was being selfish by not ending my life just to catch brief moments of him. He was the reason I even bothered going to school, but I would not delude myself to think he enjoyed my company.

But if Alice was having visions of us together…did that mean there was a chance? Was there a chance that Edward would accept me once more and love me like he once did? Assuming he had ever loved me at all…

Was there the slightest chance that he would, that he _could _ever want to be with me again?

Part of me doesn't think so. Part of me thinks it's very sad that I could believe it to be a possible outcome. Part of me looks at my reflection every morning and sees a broken and pathetic girl that will never be worthy of his or anyone else's love.

There's another part of me though—a less rational and smaller part that wants to hope. A part of me that conjures up irrational arguments to support the theory that he could ever love me.

_Remember how happy he was? That couldn't have all been fake. _Part of me says.

For the most part, I have been able to drown that part of me and its crazy notions with thoughts of my own inadequacy. There is one factor now that will not be so easy to ignore—Alice's visions.

_You'll never catch me betting against Alice._

I felt Rosalie stiffen and I immediately pulled away, checking to see if any of my limbs were bleeding. Her eyes were sort of narrowed in a kind of thoughtful way, the way some people look when they're really concentrating on something, or trying to do math in their head.

"Have you noticed anything…different lately?" she asked, focusing her narrowed gaze on me.

"What are you getting at Rosalie?" Jasper questioned. She held up her finger to him, acting more like herself than she had all week.

"A few things. Why?" I answered.

"What kinds of things?" she asked, ignoring my question.

"Jessica has been acting differently," I replied, unable to see the relevance of my obliviousness recently.

"Different how?"

"I don't know, I guess she just seems…more considerate." Jessica had really been kind of nice to me this week. She wasn't giving me the silent treatment for giving her the cold shoulder the past months and she genuinely looked like she cared.

"Anything or anyone else?" Jasper was now staring at me with the same type of look that Rosalie had. They were both thinking very hard about something.

"Angela acted oddly earlier. Oh and everyone keeps calling me Isabella." Honestly, the common use of my full name was really starting to get on my nerves. What was wrong with just calling me Bella like I preferred?

Jasper spoke up then. "Isabella is your name…isn't it?" he asked doubtfully.

"Of course it's my name Jasper, but everyone knows I like to be called Bella," I sighed. Was there some sort of vampire version of amnesia? If not, then what was the point of this game? Did they just decide one day: Hey let's all pretend Bella is crazy and _really _drive her insane?

"That's it?"

No that wasn't it. There was one big difference that was more important than the others. "You're here," I whispered as if the words would cause them to disappear before my very eyes.

"What about Edward?"

I took a deep breath. "Edward has been…" I swallowed the vomit threatening to rise up my throat, "…difficult since I first saw him on Tuesday."

Rosalie put her hand on my shoulder. "Have you noticed anything different about him?"

Besides the loathing I could clearly see in his eyes every time he looked at me? "His eyes. It looks like he might be wearing contacts?" I asked, unsure of why that had popped into my head.

"What color were they before you saw him on Tuesday?"

"Gold…like yours." That was technically a lie. They may have similar diets, but the gold in Edward's eyes had always outshone the others.

Jasper and Rosalie exchanged another look before going back to their silent conversation. Tired of watching them basically ignore me, I picked up the bottle of gin and took a couple swigs. The volume of their voices eventually rose.

"But is there such a thing?" Jasper wondered.

"Such a thing as what?" I asked tiredly.

"Alternate realities."

I stared at her. "What do you mean…like the Twilight Zone?" I resisted the urge to laugh in her face.

"Something like that…" she trailed off.

I expected Jasper to tell her she was wrong, that she's crazy. He said neither. "But is it possible?"

"Look at the facts, Jasper. This Isabella clearly isn't the same Isabella we've known," Rosalie pointed out. The completely serious tone in her voice, led me to believe she wasn't kidding.

Brows coming together, I thought over her words. "How is she different?" How am I different?

"Let's just say the Isabella we're used to, is a little more..._wild_."

Wild? Isabella Marie Swan considered wild? They were definitely joking.

"Right," I responded sarcastically, taking another sip of my drink.

Rosalie blew out a long breath that she didn't need, eyeing the bottle in my hand for a second before looking at my face. "How else do you explain everything? All of the differences?" she asked with raised eyebrows.

"I know what you are doing. Are you worried I'm going to behave like the typical vengeful ex-girlfriend?" I spat. "It doesn't matter how much Edward hurt me. I would _never_ betray your secret."

"Bella…"

I kept my gaze trained on swirling liquid within the bottle. "I'm serious."

"No it isn't that..."

"Then what?" I asked, still avoiding eye contact. It was really insulting that they thought so poorly of me. I wonder who came up with the idea that I would embrace my inner child and run off to "mommy" to go tattle. Edward or Alice might have suggested it. Maybe it was unanimous.

"When was the last time you saw Charlie?"

The shock of hearing my father's name caused me to abandon the clear waves for the powerful gold. "Monday morning I guess. Why?"

Her face became tainted with sadness. "I'm really sorry Bella."

"What? Why are you sorry?" My panic was rising.

"Rosalie," Jasper warned.

"Charlie passed away."

"What? How can you say something like that?" He wasn't dead. I would know if my own father was dead.

"He died last September," she said quietly.

I stared at her for a while. Absolute silence spread throughout the room for at least five minutes before I tried to swallow the lump in my throat in order to speak. "What is wrong with you? He is my father! Screw with my head all you want, but don't do this. This is sick," I glared.

"Has he ever left you alone this long?" she asked, glancing at the calendar taped to a small part of the kitchen wall between one of the cupboards and the tiled counter.

I responded with only silence.

"Has he called even once to tell you where he is? What he's doing? When he'll be home?" she questioned with a knowing frown.

The last time I had seen Charlie was around Monday morning, _I think_. It was often hard to keep track of the days now, refusing to allow my brain to calculate the number of months, weeks, days, and eventually hours since I had seen _him_. I only sought out the information when it was necessary for schoolwork.

But I _had_ seen my father. I had woken up early from the sounds of my own screams like any other day and I had prepared his breakfast. We sat together at the table, him reading his newspaper and me pretending to really eat, hiding most of the food in my napkin when he wasn't looking. It wasn't hard to do this, since he typically avoided looking at me whenever he could. I imagine it would be hard to watch your daughter crumple from the inside out. Of course I never blamed him for wanting to shield his face from the chilling sight.

I remember him mumbling about working late, keeping his gaze glued to his newspaper. He often worked late and it wasn't hard to guess why.

After that though, I couldn't really remember much. I couldn't remember what I had done the rest of the day, only that comforting dream I had before everything went wrong.

So assuming I hadn't seen him since Monday, that added up to a total of four days with a word from him?

_That doesn't mean anything. Maybe he's too busy to call. _

"You're lying," I breathed.

"Just look at the evidence," she replied softly.

"No," the word came out in a shallow breath as I allowed the implication of her statement to wash over me.

He _couldn't_ be dead.

The bottle slipped from my fingertips when I abruptly turned toward the stairs. If it hit the floor, I didn't hear the crash because I was only concentrating on each step I took, leading me closer and closer to the truth.

My steps slowed as I reached his doorway. The knob shifting gently underneath my grip as I slowly pushed open the door. Standing for a moment, I took in the appearance of the room, my perusal stopping upon a picture frame that sat on the nightstand along the bed.

Drifting closer, the picture became clearer and more focused. Trailing my fingertips on the dust coated glass lightly, I snatched the frame up from its place. The picture was of three people in what appeared to be a professional photo gone wrong.

Each person wore clothing that was what could be called the essence of proper—the man wearing a suit and tie, the woman wearing a simple, modest dress, and the girl wearing a delicate blouse and a long flowing skirt that announced to the world that she was a young lady.

Despite the overall appropriateness of their respective attire, the photo was imperfect. The man's head was turned toward the woman beside him with his lips pressed against her cheek, the light of love bright in his eyes. By the pleasant surprise on the woman's face, it was clear the man had done it a moment before the flash. The girl stood in front of the joyous couple with a knowing smile that suggested she knew of her father's plans. That flash solidified these people in their bliss forever. As long as this piece of paper lived, their happiness would shine throughout time.

I waited for the sadness, the emotional spiral into darkness, even the possible anger as I sat on the floor of his room. I waited, but they never came.

Everywhere I glanced, the sight of certain objects blinded me. The picture frame clutched tightly in my hands, the striped pillows upon his made bed, the overall tidiness of a room that was usually cluttered with various articles of clothing.

The stack of clean shirts atop his dresser, the business like state of his curtains—they were clearly not meant for show, but for their use. They were practical curtains. There wasn't a need for outrageous colors or exotic fabrics to adorn his window. They were only meant to stop the light from bleeding through. That was their purpose.

They were not needed tonight though with the clash of rain upon the window and the penetrating darkness of the sky. There was a storm raging just on the other side of that glass, but it seemed to far away as I continued to wait.

What was I waiting for?

Oh how I wish I knew.

There wasn't a rhyme or reason to my actions, nor an explanation for why I had remained in this exact spot upon his floor for what must have been several minutes, or quite possibly, hours.

A soft blanket of light bathed the room through the sliver of the window, its brightness drawing my blank eyes back into focus. The light came and went in a flash, submerging the room in darkness once more. That was when I knew.

I was waiting for him.

There was a reason why my eyes were glued to the window—they were seeking the delicate rhyme of light meeting darkness. They were searching for that particular set of headlights or perhaps the blinking of red and blue.

Little did I know—or rather, would ever fully admit to myself—such a sight would never grace my eyes again.

"How is she?" There was complete silence for a few minutes. "Jasper?"

"I can sense her, but it's like she's not really there… It's like there's a hole in place of where her emotions should be."

"She doesn't feel sad?"

"No."

"What kind of daughter am I if I feel nothing about the death of my father?" I asked.

A good daughter would be sad. A good daughter would be consumed with grief. A good daughter would mourn the man who fathered her. A good daughter would feel…something.

"He wasn't your father, Bella. Your father is still alive," Rosalie reasoned, sitting beside me on the floor. In my peripheral, I could see her staring out the window. It almost felt like an intrusion, having her seated on the floor next to me, her body pressing into _his _carpet, her eyes soaking in the rain and darkness through _his_ window. I shook away those thoughts, knowing her presence was merely for my comfort.

In a way, she was right. This wasn't my world, this wasn't my Forks, this wasn't my house, and this wasn't the room of my dead father. But at the same time, it was.

Although I was skeptical at first, this piece of evidence proved impossible to push away. Everything in here appeared unaffected by time or human interference. The bedding, the shirts, and the curtains, were all different items than what the Charlie _I knew_ owned.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that discovering the existence of an alternate realty shouldn't have been hard to accept. There are vampires in this town after all. Two of which were currently in my house.

Tearing my gaze away from the window, I looked down at the picture in my hands. Everything took on an unfocused feeling—like I was watching everything through a shield of foggy glass. Rubbing the thin layer of dust off the brunette's face, I stared at her foreign smile.

"This isn't me," I whispered to myself. There was a spark of life in her eyes that put my dull ones to shame. It was a strange feeling—to be envious of one's self, but still find the sight of your own face unsettling. I wanted her eyes, knowing mine would never have the potential to shine with such beauty and life.

Life.

I had been dead for so long that I had accepted it, but as I stared at the content expression upon the girl's face, I couldn't help but long for such a life.

I craved the flame that burns beneath the skin, the fluttering of butterflies in the stomach, the tingling within the bones.

Allowing the thought of how I had gotten here to slip into my mind raised an endless amount of questions.

How could I leave a place in which the angel's gather? Assuming that returning to my own world is even an option—which I am not entirely certain it is—how could I return to my old life? How could I go back to my old dreary existence just to slip back into my numb state and wallow in misery?

Here, I can breathe, but there…I was only suffocating.

If I stay here, I get a new slate. Not a clean slate, rather one that has been tarnished with the edges chipped away by the previous owner's actions.

A new slate nonetheless to me.

There is nothing for me back home—all of the angels have departed once and for all. They may return decades later, I suppose, but by that time my corpse would be drowned in dirt and littered with the parasites that would have consumed my lifeless flesh. My eyes becoming so hollow that they eventually sunk into nothingness, leaving only large gaping sockets with more depth than my eyes currently possess.

When one tastes the glorious taste of true love…they can never go back. Nothing could ever compare and nothing could ever replace it. Try as one might, the substitute would always be bathed in the shadow of the one truly desired. The real thing would maintain its role in your dreams, despite any efforts made by you or the substitute.

I knew what I deserved. I deserved someone just as plain as me, someone completely void of beauty, someone who isn't spectacular in any way—an equal. That is, if I even deserved someone.

But I was selfish. Too selfish to take what I earned—which wasn't much. I once had more—so much more. After having extraordinary, there wasn't any way I could settle for the bland companionship I deserved.

In this bizarre place, there was a chance to reclaim the love I had lost.

I wasn't going to hold my breath though.

**A/N: So there it is. There are so many alternate universes in fanfiction and I wondered: What if Bella was actually thrust into a **_**real**_** alternate universe? This chapter explained a few things, but there is still so much more that Bella will learn. Like why Edward's eyes are a different color. Are they contacts? What's wrong with Alice? We'll see. **

**Please, I beg you to tell me what you think about this now that you know what is going on. Does this reveal make you want to quit reading? Do you feel cheated? If you don't tell me your thoughts, I'm going to assume these are all true. I'm cynical and I am worried I disappointed all of you.**

**Review and you will get a preview of Chapter 7, which is called **_**Keeping Secrets**_**. **


	9. Chapter 7: Keeping Secrets

**Disclaimer: Twilight and all of its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The plot is mine.**

**A/N: I am amazed. Utterly amazed. Thank you so much for the reviews. Chapter 6's reviews were absolutely phenomenal. I would love it if we could break 200. If everyone left a review, even just a smiley face, we could do it… Hint. Hint. This chapter is more transitional than anything…**

Chapter 7: Keeping Secrets

Song: "A Beautiful Lie" -_30 Seconds To Mars_

_It's the perfect denial_

_Such a beautiful like to believe in_

_So beautiful, beautiful it makes me._

***

The next couple days kind of faded in and out for me.

Although I would have been content in just drinking myself into a stupor to pass the time, Rosalie had other plans. She stayed with me the whole time, only leaving my side to obtain a couple changes of clothes. I tried not to think about who she invariably ran into when she returned to the Cullen manor.

She also insisted that I shower daily, whether it was for her benefit or my own, I didn't know. I imagine being a caretaker would become that much more difficult if the patient refused to bathe themselves. Seeing her as my caretaker bothered me to no end, but that was what she was. She didn't know me; by all rights she hated me. She was just very kind and felt the need to help out. Her actions were out of pity, not love. As much as her pity damaged my pride, I was grateful to her, I guess.

One minute I would be there and the next I would be gone, replaying old memories of Charlie in my head. The memories would shift sometimes, to _him._ Those were harder to remember, and I'm sure Rosalie could detect the subtle difference between the two. She never mentioned it though, for which I was also grateful.

I'm sure they were curious—Rosalie and Jasper—to know why the Edward from my world had chosen to leave me. Though…I suppose after meeting me, they must have had _some _idea. The reason was plainly written across my face, for the whole world to see.

They told me not to worry about explaining everything right away, saying I needed time to cope with my situation. That was another thing I was constantly thinking about.

How had I come to be here?

Not that I was complaining, but waking up in a brand new world was a bit unsettling. Especially when you realize that you have been in the new world for nearly a week, without the faintest idea the switch had been made. It was like someone had pulled a rug right out from underneath my feet, but I didn't notice, causing a delay in a reaction and making the impact of the fall even more staggering.

I suppose the idea of an alternate reality wasn't particularly farfetched when one considers the existence of vampires. It also raised other questions, like: Are there _other _alternate realities?

I tried to imagine it, a world where Edward and I were together and happy, both human and both deeply in love with the other.

My heart broke a little more with that thought.

Rosalie was talking to me again. I only noticed because the little fissure crack that thought made in my heart had been enough to bring me out of my thoughts. This also happened from time to time. I would snap out of it and my eyes would shift around the room, checking for something, although I wasn't sure what.

Rosalie was talking about making me some food, so that I could keep up my strength.

What's the point of staying healthy when I'm already so decayed?

The idea of food wasn't appealing in the slightest, but I didn't refuse the soup when she placed the tray in front of my lap. I knew that in order to have the will to face Edward, I would need to keep my body sustained. Honestly, I wouldn't mind giving up food altogether. Everything tasted the same anyway—vile and foul. It was the same taste that was always in my mouth, no matter how many times I brushed my teeth.

Even the strongest mouth wash couldn't rinse it from my mouth.

Rosalie wore a small smile as I picked up the spoon and began shoveling it down. She frowned a little when she noticed I wasn't blowing on the spoonfuls of soup and I vaguely registered the burn of it as it slid down my throat. It was minor in comparison to the burn I was now used to.

Once I finished—rather quickly I might add—I could feel the peel of a little piece of skin detaching itself from the roof of my mouth. Part of it was still connected to the rest of the skin, leaving my tongue to fiddle with it, pushing it around my mouth for no apparent reason.

This could almost explain the way I was feeling lately. Each time I took a drink that burning would remove a layer of my internal wall and the numbing feeling would seep in. The more familiar I became with that burn, the easier the layers departed. And as the walls thinned, the quicker the pleasant haze came. I might have asked if Rosalie would get me a bottle of something if I thought she would comply. I would have just gotten one myself, but she seemed determined to keep me from moving from this bed.

Rosalie lifted the tray from in front of me, mumbling something about returning it to the kitchen. This was one of the brief moments in which she would leave my side, like she was afraid if she was gone too long, she would return to find me hanging from a beam with a noose around my neck.

I wondered if she knew how often I thought of death, but quickly brought myself out of those thoughts. She didn't know… How could she?

She returned a minute later with a deck of cards. She had played solitaire at least a hundred times these passed couple of days, but part of me thought that she held a small hope I would want to play a game with her.

_What a stupid thought. Who in their right mind would want to play a game with me anyway?_

There was something that had been festering in my thoughts for the last couple of hours and I knew it would continue to bother me until I just grew a spine and asked her.

"Rosalie?" my voice was hoarse from the lack of use. I hadn't spoken since Friday night, in my father's room. _Her father,_ I mentally corrected.

Her eyes widened at the sound of my voice. Clearly I had surprised her with my interruption of the silence. "Yes Bella?"

I decided not to step around it and ask the question I was dying to know the answer to. "Have you told Edward about any of this?" The way his name fell off my tongue sounded so foreign to me now. Mostly because it felt a little strange calling him Edward now that I knew he wasn't the one I was used to, but a slightly different variation. Not that anyone could _ever_ get used to someone as magnificent as Edward.

"No. Why?" she looked at me curiously.

"I was wondering if…" _Just spit it out. _"If…you could…_not_ tell him?" I asked hopefully.

She maintained eye contact, her expression morphing into one of confusion. "I guess so. I'll have to ask Jasper though. Mind if I ask why?" I really hope I wasn't too late, but I did remember her saying something about him going on a hunting trip immediately after school Friday, so that he could return by Monday.

Monday. _Tomorrow._

"It's just hard for me and I need some time to adjust, you know?" That was partly true, but it wasn't the real reason I didn't want him to know who I really was.

I mean, I _want_ him to know who I am, or better yet, that I am _not _the Isabella Swan he is so intent on hating, but if he knew the Edward from _my world_ had rejected me…

I was afraid he would see it as a sign.

_Yea she's interesting at first, but once you get to know her…you lose interest._

Rosalie just looked at me, likely thinking over my words. Her features took on a hint of sadness for a moment before she quickly reined it in, replacing the downward curve of her lips with a smile of reassurance. "Sure Bella. Just promise me you'll tell him eventually."

Nodding, I removed myself from the conversation, bringing up an image I had visited quite frequently during the weekend.

The curious color of emerald and crimson clashing together, almost seeming to unite as one.

…

"Rosalie?"

It was dark now and she was sitting on the edge of my bed, reading something while I lay on top of my comforter, not even trying to go to sleep. She placed a small blue rectangle in the book to mark her page.

"Yes?"

"How did Charlie die?"

It was the question I had wanted to ask for a while, but was too fearful to. Afraid the answer would open the floodgates, but also afraid I would still feel nothing.

"Are you sure you want to hear this Bella?" I nodded, chewing slightly on my tongue.

"I didn't see it happen or anything, but I did hear the official report when they brought him to the hospital." She looked at me, silently asking if I wanted her to go on. I nodded for her to continue.

She took a deep breath, "According to a few of the officers working at the station that night, Charlie was taking off early to celebrate your—well _her_—birthday," she looked down, grimacing.

_My birthday._

I guess that day was cursed, no matter what universe I was in.

"The station got a call for a domestic disturbance and Charlie offered to look into it since it was on his way to the restaurant. One of the neighbors reported hearing a lot of screaming and loud crashes coming from within the house. The family that owned the house had only moved in about a month before, so I guess they weren't really acquainted with everyone in town yet."

That was perfectly understandable. It's hard enough moving to a new place without all of the prodding of the nosy people of this town.

"Witnesses say Charlie walked through their slightly ajar front door where he found a man standing over a severely beaten woman with a little boy crying under a coffee table. Supposedly, the man found a love letter hidden in her underwear drawer and accused her of cheating on him."

So he beat her. I guess talking it out wouldn't have sufficed?

"When he saw Charlie standing there clean shaven and dressed in a suit and tie, he must have thought Charlie was the man who wrote his wife the love letter, and he…he…shot him. Charlie didn't even have his gun belt on him," she finished with a frown.

I wondered if this Rosalie had known my father because she truly seemed sad about his death, though that just might be her caring nature surfacing again.

I sighed when she looked up at me, still feeling detached from the whole ordeal. What was wrong with me?

Like she had somehow heard my thoughts, she responded, "There's nothing wrong with you Bella."

I scoffed, picking at a little thread poking out of the bed sheets. Looking around the room, I realized how much it was different from _my _room. To my relief, the walls were the same color as mine. That would have been really bad if I hadn't noticed that difference.

There were books lining shelves too, though from what Rosalie had told me, she didn't usually see Isabella reading and was a little surprised to find the tattered copies.

I remembered one of our conversations earlier when I asked her what Isabella was like.

"She's a little…hard to get along with," she had said awkwardly, like it felt wrong to insult someone behind their back. This Rosalie truly amazed me. She was just so different from the harsh and cold Rosalie I had known.

"She's really…_experienced_…sexually." A little color had filled my cheeks. That wasn't something I necessarily liked knowing, but I suppose I did need to know everything to help prepare for Monday. She said she didn't know how many guys she had been with, but apparently there had been many—at least, according to the rumors floating around the school.

I knew not to trust those though.

"Who else lives here?" I had asked. I hadn't seen anyone, but if felt like a question I needed to ask.

"Just her. There was a rather large insurance policy taken out on Charlie long before he died—enough to support you here for a long time."

So I would be living here alone. It was nice in a way—to have the freedom to do whatever I wanted and not have to worry about being caught doing anything…unlawful. I even used to enjoy solitude, but that didn't decrease the sadness I felt at being utterly alone.

"And Renee?" She hadn't mentioned her death, so I assumed she was still alive.

"I think she's living in Phoenix now with her new husband."

"Phil?" I had asked. Apart from Angela and Mike, I wondered if everyone else maintained the same partners…or mates. But I wasn't sure how to ask that.

"Yes. How did you know?" she had asked curiously.

"She's married to Phil in my world too."

"Interesting…"

"When did they get married?" The photo I had taken from Charlie's room looked recent.

"Late October."

I had counted down the months in my head. October came directly after September…

My eyebrows had shot up as I squeaked, "_Late October?"_

"Yes. I think that's why Isabella didn't go to Phoenix when they offered to take her. I don't think they've spoken since she left."

The more information I received about this place, the worse I felt.

Here I was, whining about my pathetic life, when there were people here who truly suffered. I couldn't imagine going through everything the other Isabella had gone through. I couldn't say I would trade lives with her…

I loved my Charlie and my Renee. That was one of the reasons why I originally chose to end my life. I could see what my zombie state was doing to Charlie. Renee had stopped calling, had almost completely ceased emailing me. Seeing their daughter shriveled up and curled inside herself was hurting them.

I didn't want to hurt anyone…except myself.

I was the one that deserved punishment. I was the one that screwed everything up. It was my fault.

I have made up my mind. I know in my heart that I can never return back to my old world—even if the opportunity should present itself.

In the beginning, they might miss me. Charlie might send out a search party and Renee might come to Forks to aid in the search. Charlie might call my name for hours in the forest where I chose to end it all. His deputies may hang posters of my face around town for a week. But soon they would forget—they would give up.

When they did eventually give into the fact that they were never going to find my body, would the Cullens hear about it? And if they did…what would they think? What would they do? How would they feel?

I imagined the Cullens at my funeral, the customary black clothes bringing out their pale complexions. They would each leave a single white rose, apart from Edward whose rose would be red. Not because he harbored any hidden love for me, but as a silent gesture. A gesture that showed he acknowledged my feelings, even if he didn't return them.

The sky would be clear, apart from a soft blanket of clouds that would allow the Cullens to be among the human attendees in the daylight. It would be one of the few days in which Forks didn't rain—signifying a new beginning for my family. On the last day they would ever think of me, they would stand before my empty casket and weep.

The image was wrong. Vampires weren't able to cry and even if they could, they wouldn't waste their tears on me.

Seeing Edward day after day, not being able to be with him, and hearing his hateful words was killing me, but I deserved every moment of it. He should know who I am. It wasn't like my identity mattered… Alice's vision was wrong.

I couldn't bring myself to tell him though. I was scared.

I could never delude myself into believing he would ever see anything in me. Those brilliant green eyes with their peculiar sparkling twinge of red saw right through me.

The thought of his eyes, brought up a new question that had flitted in and out of my thoughts ever since I first saw him that day.

"Why aren't Edward's eyes gold like yours?" I asked Rosalie who was now looking through my closet—_her_ closet. Her body stiffened, her hand clutching a denim vest tightly. I waited for her to turn around and when she did, she eyed me warily. My questions were probably starting to get on her nerves. Even this Rosalie didn't have a high tolerance for my annoying voice.

"Edward has a different diet," she said quietly, pulling on a loose thread.

So this Edward didn't have the same diet as the rest of the Cullens. That's why his eyes aren't gold. But that could only mean…

"Oh," I mumbled, wringing my hands. It shouldn't bother me that he hunts humans, but I couldn't get rid of the image of his beautiful lips wrapped around someone's throat. I shivered then, although I knew it wasn't out of fear or from being cold.

Rosalie looked at me worriedly. "No, please don't think poorly of him for that," she pleaded, for what reason, I didn't know. What did my approval amount to in the grand scheme of things?

"He has a…condition." That sure caught my attention.

"A condition?" Had he made a deal or something with another vampire that required him to drink human blood? I couldn't think of what he might want or need…he had everything.

Bragging rights?

I could imagine Edward and Emmett making some sort of bet like that, but I thought they were very adamant about not killing innocent people. Then again, these aren't the same Cullens I once knew. They could enjoy watching feeble humans like myself, suffer at their hands…

After glancing out the window, she abruptly pulled the curtains shut. I didn't understand the point, since it had been open all weekend, whether it was daytime or not.

She turned to face me. "Look…it isn't my place to say. Just promise me you won't judge him?" she asked hopefully.

I really didn't have a response to that. I really wanted to know what she meant by "condition" and I also wanted to know what made him feel justified in taking a human life.

_Maybe he's hunting criminals like he did before he met you._

Again, I remembered that this wasn't the same Edward. He may not see things the same way…may not hold the same morals. Perhaps he did it for the thrill—to be the last thing those people see before his mouth sucks them dry of all life.

I couldn't help but feel a little envious of his victims. It was irrational of course and very morbid, but what wasn't irrational or morbid about my thoughts and feelings these days?

She went back to combing through the closet, wrinkling her nose at a few of the less tasteful pieces. Luckily for me, it must have been laundry day before all of this happened. The clothes I had worn the last few days were taken straight from the "modest" rack, likely not having been touched in years. The rest of the closet was bare—it had been scoured for something that wasn't inappropriate, I assumed.

Neither Rosalie nor Jasper knew where the real Isabella was or where she might have gone. They did say she typically acted on impulse, so she could be anywhere for all they knew. It was just another thing we would need to look into. Imagine the look on her face if she came home to find me? Unless she wasn't _capable_ of returning. If I had been sent here…could she have been sent to my world?

Rosalie avoided eye contact for at least an hour and I was sure the reason was to prevent me from pressing the eye color issue. She said it wasn't her place to say which meant that unless I managed to sweet talk Jasper (yeah right) into telling me, I would have to go straight to the horse's mouth.

That particular mouth though…had a very intense distaste for me. The thought of my cowering like a frightened little girl under his gaze as I attempt to ask him my question, lowered what tiny portion of confidence that still managed to linger in my mind.

And here I thought I had lost it all that night.

No matter what manner in which he decided to treat me tomorrow, I would persevere.

I also made a silent vow.

I _will_ find out the secret behind those startling eyes…even if it kills me.

**A/N: If you don't sign up for an account on this website, I can't send you a preview. I am sorry I was unable to send it to a few of you due to that reason. If you sign up, you can put this story on **_**Story Alert**_**. Then you will get an email notifying you every time I update. If you don't want to sign up for an account, that's fine. I still love your reviews. I just feel bad about not being able to send you a preview…**

**Review and I'll send you a preview of Chapter 8. Also, there's a poll at the top of my profile.**


	10. Chapter 8: As If It Were Her

**Disclaimer: Twilight and all of its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The plot is mine.**

**A/N: This isn't the chapter I sent previews out for. That one will come before the weekend is up. Here's a little taste of EPOV. Not the Antiward. THE Edward. Enjoy…**

Chapter 8: As If It Were Her

Song: "Pretty Buildings" –_People In Planes_

_Honor came and I was dead._

***

**Edward**

I gazed down at the small device lying in the palm of my hand. There was once a time when I held everything I could ever want in this palm. Instead of closing my hand around what was within my grasp, I had let her go—causing a crash that sent my life shattering into an infinite amount of pieces.

Everything was shallow and empty. Running had ceased to be pleasurable since that day when I ran away from her into the forest. Running was now purely convenience because it was an efficient way to travel. Mountain lions were no longer my favorite—everything tasted bland. There would be weeks at a time in which I would not feed and when I was at the very brink of the end of my resistance, I would wait even longer.

No longer did I play the piano—the music ceased to come to my mind. No melodies. No notes. Not since I was privy to the sight of the destruction of my world. The vicious lies that fell off my tongue—it was as if I could see them searing her delicate heart, marring her with the agony I caused.

Regardless of this new opinion of music, I always had one of the earpieces of this device in my ear. Clinging to it as if it were the only thing I had to live for—as if it were her.

I watched as my hand tilted and the small device slid off—scraping against exactly twenty three branches before making contact with the rough ground of the forest. I continued to watch as a small drop of water landed upon the screen of the device from one of the branches above me—like it was a bull's eye. For me, it seemed to symbolize the tear that I was unable to shed.

That was the last time I would listen to music.

Sliding down the trunk of the tree in which I was perched, I ran from the forest. From the small device that was now cracked and broken on the forest's floor.

What had I done?


	11. Chapter 9: Just A Flicker

**Disclaimer: Twilight and all of its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The plot is mine.**

**A/N: Gold stars galore for punkfaire. She is insanely awesome for putting up with all my crap.**

Chapter 9: Just A Flicker

Song: "Hallelujah" –_Paramore_

_I can't force these eyes to see the end._

***

Walking the halls of Forks High School, it was painfully obvious I was in uncharted territory.

_We aren't in Kansas anymore._

In my head, I began to call this place the _Anti Forks_.

Everything was different, yet so much was the same. Some things were only minorly altered, while others were drastically dissimilar from the world I had known.

It was almost freeing, being in a new yet familiar place. The downside of course was my reputation. I hadn't learned all that much about the Isabella Swan in this universe, but apparently she was most known for being very easy. The people in these halls had already passed their judgments upon her, whether they were positive or not, I would have to discover for myself.

Every time someone approached, I curled my body into the walls as they walked passed. Some people slowed there steps to look at me, while others just snickered. I'm sure I looked insane, but I just couldn't halt the reflex.

I felt like a wild animal in a cage—everyone was pressing their faces closer to the bars, trying to catch a glimpse of the ever elusive Swan. Maybe if I had been stealthier and less clumsy, I would have been able to avoid him.

"Hey Isabella," he purred, placing his hand on the wall in front of me, thereby blocking my escape. I thought about turning around and walking away, but the look in his eyes made me fearful of what he might do to my backside. I had seen that look before—in the eyes of those men in Port Angeles.

When did I become so paranoid? Maybe he just wanted to ask to borrow something. Like a book or a pencil.

"Um hi," I replied uncertainly. Not knowing the nature of Isabella's friendship with Tyler, left feelings of unease. Hopefully, it was an innocent acquaintance and not something _more._

"I haven't heard from you lately," he said, leaning closer.

"S-sorry. I've been…busy?" I grimaced as his eyes raked over my chest. Ok. Not a book or a pencil.

"I was beginning to think you'd forgotten me," he pouted. He lifted the hand that was resting at his side and placed it on my hip. I visibly flinched as he rubbed a circle around my hip bone. Taking a quick couple of steps back from his hands, I made a sound similar to "oof" as I backed into something hard.

Sucking in a huge breath, I turned around to apologize to whoever I had run into.

My eyes met a tight black shirt and I froze when my head tilted up to meet a harsh gaze of vibrant green.

My lungs were constricting, my fingers twitching, my breath hitching, and my nails scratching at the sides of my jeans. My toes tapped, my body was even less slack, and my heart was pounding as loud and as fast as my eyes were wide. My teeth were digging into my bottom lip, threatening to draw blood.

But he just stood there. Silent and still as a carving created with perfect precision and doused in an aroma that could have been considered sinful for any being to possess.

Two days had been far too long.

The soft lips of the sculpture parted and I waited with baited breath for his musical voice to reach my ears. It didn't matter if he didn't know me, he was still Edward.

"Watch where you're going," he glared before shutting his locker and walking in the opposite direction. I followed his movements, watching the fluid way he drifted through the halls. I was completely mesmerized until I felt that same pressure on my hip. Breaking the trance his form had created, I turned abruptly to see Tyler, licking his lips.

Backing away from his hands again, I looked at his innocent smile suspiciously. His eyes retained a glint of mischief and determination as he started moving closer and I continued to back away. Much to my dismay, my back made contact with a wall and I knew I was trapped.

There wasn't a teacher in sight and the hall was almost entirely empty. The only students around just kept their gazes trained on the floor in front of them, ignoring what they could hear happening just feet away.

Tyler placed his hand back on that same spot, even going so far as to poke his thumb underneath the line of my jeans to graze the lacey fabric of my underwear, but I quickly removed it.

"Don't be like that baby," he purred, trying to sound seductive. In actuality, I was trying my hardest not to vomit at his advances.

This time he put his hand on my other hip, throwing me off and allowing him to trail his hand up my side.

"Don't touch me," I spat, feeling the familiar fear creeping under my skin, causing all of the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up.

I'm sure he could somehow sense my fear, perhaps feel it in the air and see it in my eyes because he grinned.

"Come on baby. You know how much you liked it last time."

I shuddered, trying not to imagine whatever Isabella had done with Tyler—_to Tyler._ Taking the involuntary reaction as a sign of arousal, he pushed me forcefully against the wall, applying more pressure. I was trapped.

"Don't," I whimpered, feeling utterly defeated under his touch. No one had touched me this way in so long, that I was far too shocked to do anything. I didn't like the feeling of his hands on my body, but I couldn't get the command from my brain to reach my limbs. I couldn't move.

"She said no," a furious voice interjected from my left. Shifting slightly, I looked at the owner of the voice I would know anywhere.

His jaw was clenched and his whole body was tensed as he glared at Tyler. Feeling my stare, he directed his gaze at me. He must have seen the alarm in my expression when our gazes locked because his suddenly softened. He still held all of the anger in his eyes and in the tense of his jaw, but his features almost seemed…sympathetic?

"It's none of your business Cullen. Isabella wants this," he said, frustrated with the interruption.

Tyler was still pushing me into the wall, his hands groping the skin at my sides through my shirt. The books and notebooks in my backpack were pressing into my back uncomfortably, likely leaving indentations in my skin.

Edward hadn't stopped looking at me. "Do you want him?" he asked. This Edward was very blunt.

"N-no," I stuttered, afraid that if my denial wasn't strong enough, he would leave me in Tyler's clutches.

"She's just playing hard to get," Tyler groaned, narrowing his eyes at me in annoyance.

"Contrary to what you may have been raised to believe, when a woman says no, she means no. Remove your hands or—"

"Or what?" Tyler sneered, cutting him off.

"Or I will remove them for you. Trust me, you'd rather remove them yourself to prevent a few of your fingers from breaking in the process."

I stared at Edward with wide eyes. He was speaking in one of the calmest voices I had ever heard him use, but at the same time, the sincerity of it was more frightening than Tyler could ever be. Tyler must have just taken it as an empty threat because he snorted. If only he knew what Edward was capable of…

Tyler leaned forward, puckering his lips in a way that made it look like he might swallow my face whole. Before Tyler's mouth came anywhere close to mine, Edward yanked him backward. Unfortunately, Tyler grabbed my shoulders to try to keep his balance and ended up dragging me down with him.

Knees stinging upon impact with the linoleum, I watched Edward open one of the longer lockers and shove Tyler's body inside, shutting and locking the door behind him. Gaping at one of the most cliché high school experiences, I strained to hear the sound of Tyler banging around in his metal prison.

There was no sound.

He knelt down in front of me, eyeing my disheveled clothes which had become so from Tyler's groping. "Are you alright?"

I let out the breath I didn't realize I was holding. "Yeah. I think so." Hugging my knees up to my chest, I tried to stare at anything but his face. It was hard enough being in front of him and all I longed to do was gaze at him for hours on end, but I needed to settle down my already terrified heart.

My eyes shot to him, forgetting their previous decision to avoid his features when he tucked a stray piece of hair behind my ear. That simple touch negated all of the work I was doing moments ago to calm down. Every cell in my body was fluttering with life, worse from the adrenaline that was still very much present.

"Are you well enough to attend class?" he asked, staring at my opened mouth expression with worry.

No I wasn't ready. _I would much rather stay in this hall with you than hide in the library._

"Yeah," I gulped, staring at my shoes as I pried myself off the floor. "I'm fine."

I noticed him retract his hand back to stuff it into his pocket, and I felt a little pang of regret. Had I known he was offering to help me up, I would have gladly taken it.

_God, I'm like an insane stalker or something. _

I frowned as I thought of how badly I wanted his touch. Enough to even consider purposely tripping in the hopes that he would stop me from falling.

I shook my head. _No, you're not insane. You're just desperately in love with a mythical being that thinks you're someone else. _

"Thank you," I sighed, darting my eyes to the locker. Whoever the owner was would be getting quite the surprise…

"No woman deserves that type of treatment," he said simply.

Offering a small smile, I reluctantly continued on my path to the library. I knew he was following me. I could feel it. I didn't look back though. He cleared his throat as I was passing the doorway to the cafeteria. Taking a deep breath, I stopped to look back at him.

"Aren't you going to get something to eat?" he asked.

Raising an eyebrow at his question, I replied, "No I wasn't planning to." It should have been obvious that I didn't want anything by the way I dismissed the wafting odors. The only scent that interested me was something I couldn't begin to describe. It was the natural cologne of the vampire standing feet away in confusion.

"Very well," he murmured, striding into the awaiting chatter of the room without a backwards glance.

---

Lunch was over and the scent of dusty old books didn't have the calming effect I had hoped it would. There were only two things that drew away the bitter thoughts of life. One of which I was about to be granted, the other would have to come later.

Edward was sitting in his seat, staring at his hands. The closer I got, the easier it was to make out his expression. His face was almost entirely emotionless, but the curve of his brow belayed his frustration and confusion. He stiffened at the sound of my chair scratching at the floor. I mentally chastised myself for lacking grace and interrupting his reverie.

Not knowing where to look, I examined my hands and wondered what could be so complex about his. More than likely, his thoughts had nothing to do with his hands at all. Perhaps he was thinking about what happened earlier. The same thing had been on my mind all lunch.

"Take out your books and read chapter fourteen," Mr. Banner waved his hand and wheeled over to his computer.

I groaned in irritation when I noticed my Chemistry book was missing. With all of that had happened at lunch with Tyler, I had forgotten to retrieve my book. It wasn't that I really needed it, for I had already read most of the book. Nevertheless, I always brought it as a distraction.

I jumped when a pale finger tapped the space in front of me on the black table top. Following up the arm of the hand, I noted his biceps bulging beneath the confines of his black shirt. His broad shoulder blades increased my flushed face, until I saw the smirk on his face. His amusement had surely stained my cheeks in a permanent state of crimson.

"You forgot your book."

"I was a little distracted earlier."

"Tyler?" he asked with furrowed brows.

"Yes," I answered, embarrassed he had to step in at all. Of course I was grateful, but I just didn't like him having to see me in a compromising position.

_You aren't together. It doesn't matter how he sees you._

"Would you like to borrow my book?"

I glanced at it in uncertainty. "How will you read the chapter?" I asked dumbly. After going through high school so many times and with his memory, he definitely didn't need it. He could probably quote the whole book if I asked him to. That is, if he knew the truth and could bear to speak with me.

"I have already read it," he smirked, sliding the book in front of me. Our hands grazed each other for a moment, causing a small gasp to leave my mouth. Withdrawing his hand quickly, he stared down at the now vacant area in front of him.

Despite everything…this new world, this new Edward, this new Bella…a jolt of that same electricity shot up my arm and tingled in my toes. My skin hadn't buzzed like this in quite some time, but I recognized it instantly.

To my surprise, it was different.

The hum wasn't the same, but it wasn't any less enjoyable. There seemed to be a twinge of something that I couldn't quite explain. Sort of like the chill you get when you can somehow sense danger, but different than that too. There wasn't fear, just that soft, yet intense hum.

He was quiet after that, only making noise when he shifted in his chair every so often. I knew the sounds he made were solely for my benefit. The gracefulness he possessed showed even in those artificial sounds.

I resorted to pretending to read the chapter. He had after all been very kind in letting me borrow it and I felt it was my duty to not let that act go to waste. His behavior today had been almost a complete one eighty from his usual abrasiveness. Tyler was probably the cause. I bet that little _interaction_ had increased his pity for me ten fold. Edward now pitied me enough to withhold his hateful words.

I grimaced at my hand. If I been more careful and kept my hands to myself, he may have continued to talk to me like he was before. I didn't regret his touch; in fact I was trying to suppress the emotion akin to happiness and relief from bubbling to the surface. It wasn't the real thing—never the real thing. But it was the closest I had ever gotten since my last birthday.

"You can stop pretending."

I snapped my gaze up to Edward, finding his eyes trained on my hand. I moved it to my lap.

"Pretending?" I gulped. Did he know the truth? Had Rosalie or Jasper revealed my secret? Had he somehow discovered it in my touch? Had he figured it out through one of Alice's visions?

"You have been pretending to read the chapter ever since I loaned you my book. Why?"

I sighed in relief, glad that all of my worrying had been misplaced. "I've already read the chapter," I admitted, my face heating up. Before either of us could say anymore, Mr. Banner chose that moment to call the class to attention.

"Tomorrow we are going to be dealing with acids and bases," Mr. Banner announced, earning a collective cheer of excitement from some of the students and a groan from me. With my track record, I would probably wind up looking like Harvey Dent at the end of Dark Knight.

"While the chemicals are not as corrosive as what you may have seen in movies, it is still dangerous for them to come in contact with your skin and would result in minor burning. That being said, everyone needs to come to class in appropriate attire," he stared pointedly at some of the girls, warranting a few giggles from them and groans from the males of the class.

"That means legs and feet must be completely covered, but arms cannot and long hair must be tied back. No acrylic nails and no flammable hair products like hairspray," this brought about the angry mumbling of just about every female in the class. I didn't see the big deal. Fake nails were impossible to navigate with and they could go one day without.

"If you do not comply with these rules, you will not participate," he finished as the bell rang.

When I turned back to Edward, he was already gone. The Chemistry book was still curiously lying open on my desk.

Why did he leave it? It couldn't be because he thought I would need it. He knew that I didn't need it and that I had my copy in my locker. So why leave it?

_Maybe he just wanted to leave without having to talk to you._

I sighed heavily, picking up my stuff and grabbing his book before exiting the room. At least now I had a reason to speak to him tomorrow. If it had been anyone else, I would have hunted them down in fear of preventing them from getting their homework done. I knew him well enough to know he wouldn't need it though.

---

I stood there with the other girls wearing the official uniform for Gym. I was lucky to find Rosalie in the locker room, turned out she had Gym right before me, and asked her to help me find my locker. I remembered how she laughed at my shocked face when I removed the thin fabric from my locker. Despite the consistently low temperature of Forks year round, the uniform included a thin tank top and a pair of tiny shorts. Both were far too clingy to my body and made me feel naked like every single one of my flaws was put on display.

"SWAN!" a short plump woman yelled as she waddled toward me. I honestly had no idea who she was.

"Oh no. It looks like Mrs. Hall has a bone to pick with you," Jessica whispered from my left, offering me a sympathetic smile.

The woman was dressed in bright blue stretch pants, a lime green shirt, and a bright pink jacket. She resembles a cross between Barney and a penguin with a chain dangling from her neck, the whistle on the bottom moving back and forth with her steps.

"Bout time you showed up. Explain yourself."

"I haven't been…um," I stuttered under her beady eyes. She may have looked like Violet from Willy Wonka after she blew up like a blueberry, but she was a little scary. "…feeling well."

She looked me up and down for a moment, before darting her eyes to the chart in her hands. "As it stands, you've missed nine days. That's ninety points you can't make up," she lifted an eyebrow, challenging me to contradict her.

I was a little more than surprised. I knew that I had skipped five days, but it was still shocking when she pointed it out like that. Plus, four of those days weren't mine. I wonder how much Isabella used to ditch…

"You're going to have to make that up. I want a four page paper on sports." I stared at her doubtfully. Was that all it took to raise my grade?

She tapped her foot expectantly with her hand on her hip. Realizing I was meant to answer, I hurriedly agreed.

"Good. Now go run the track. THAT INCLUDES ALL OF YOU," she bellowed, turning her piercing stare to the group of girls comparing their behinds. I almost laughed at how stupid they looked.

The amusement disappeared when they all glared at me like I was the reason they had to abandon their _meaningful _conversation to run. Jessica was still at my side.

"Running in Gym class? That's _so _last year," she said sarcastically. I smiled a little at her joke. It wasn't a real smile, but I appreciated how nice she was to me. This Jessica wasn't annoying and I already liked her more than the other one.

We ran around the track so many times I thought my legs were going to fall off, partially because of the amount of times I had fallen. Four times so far.

Every time I would slow my pace to prevent my clumsy tendencies from making them known, Mrs. Hall would blow her whistle and shriek "SWAN". Eventually I gave up on trying to complete the laps without tripping and just let the pain come. Bruises would adorn my knees, but at least Mrs. Hall would have her blood, I thought bitterly.

The sound of her whistle hit my ears and I couldn't have been happier to hear it once I glanced at the clock. Halting my steps, I tenderly pressed my hands to my knees and leaned forward as I struggled to breathe. My throat and lungs burned, my legs ached, and my stomach churned. Rigorous exercise mixed with my eating habits, or lack thereof, created a terrible combination. I would have to eat something tonight.

---

The experience of pulling into the empty driveway was bittersweet. Part of me recognized the usual initial reaction—relief. Recalling this feeling increased my guilt as I pondered the reason for it.

_I was relieved Charlie wasn't here._

As I climbed out of my truck, I passed my reflection in one of the mirrors. Such a daunting thing it was—to look at my own face. To see every single one of my flaws, physical and not, and notice the lifeless torment in my gaze. I didn't usually stare for so long, but I couldn't tear my eyes away now because there was something else there.

Something I hadn't seen in so long that it seemed strange and out of place.

A tiny flicker of hope.

**A/N: Lighter than all of the chapters so far. I wasn't laying on the depression as thick as usual, but we are getting somewhere. I barely read through this. If you noticed an army of mistakes, please let me know. So we broke 200 reviews and you guys reviewed Chapter 7 like nobody's business (41). When we hit 300 reviews, I'll post another EPOV. Because I'm greedy like that.**

**Preview to all who review. PS: How did you guys like that little bit of EPOV last chapter?**


	12. Chapter 10: A, B, C

**Disclaimer: Twilight and all of its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The plot is mine.**

**A/N: punkfarie exceeded her already undying awesomeness and created a thread on Twilighted for Sweet Relief. Link is on my profile.**

**Important information about this story:**** Although I would love to just let some of you continue guessing, there are a few things that should be made absolutely clear.**

**In the very first chapter of this story, Bella ventured into the forest to commit suicide. After an incident involving lightning, she woke in an alternate universe. She is not in coma, losing her mind, or dead, she is indeed in an alternate universe. Isabella is not in the **_**Anti Forks**_** when Bella arrives. This means she could be **_**anywhere **_**except for the Anti Forks. Take that to mean what you will, but I am not saying whether or not she's in Bella's world, just that she **_**could **_**be. Her location will be revealed in a future chapter. All of the characters are different in some way because this is an ****alternate universe****. There is a reason the Antiward and the Anti-Alice behave the way they do toward Bella which will be revealed as the story progresses. Chapter 8 was in **_**Edward's **_**point of view. Not the Antiward's. **

**Important terms I will use throughout this story:**

_**Isabella**_** refers to the Bella of the alternate universe. **_**Antiward**_** refers to the Edward of the alternate universe. Any word with the prefix **_**Anti-**_** refers to something within the alternate universe.**

Chapter 10: A-Acid, B-Base, C-Chemical Spill

Song: "Chemicals React" –_Aly and AJ_

_You make me feel out of my element_

_Like I'm walkin' on broken glass._

***

I awoke fully alert. The room was dark and the sky was covered in a blanket of deep gray clouds. Morning hadn't arrived yet.

Everything was silent—the rain falling noiselessly outside my window. Everything was muted except for a distant creaking. The sound was familiar, although I could not place it.

_CREAK._

It was becoming louder. Closer.

_CREAK!_

The screech filled my ears and a strange fog swam through my head. I _knew_ that sound.

_CREAK!_

This time I covered my ears and hunched over as a sharp pain shot through my eardrums. It was too loud. Too loud or too close.

The tempo changed and my head snapped up to see a white figure in the corner of my room. He was sitting in the rocking chair, back straight and eyes forward.

"Edward?"

He nodded, but didn't speak. He stood from the chair slowly, taking one purposeful step toward me. In the blink of an eye, he was kneeling on my bed in front of me. My eyes widened in shock because he wouldn't risk exposing his secret unless…

Unless he _knew_.

His hand rose from his side to cup my neck with one shimmering hand of frost, sending a sharp shiver rippling through my body. As his head tipped, my eyelids wanted to flutter closed, but they couldn't. Not with the way he was staring at me.

Edward's eyes were bright with a red line flying across the deep green meadow in his gaze. His lips were only an inch from mine when he blew out a breath, fanning my face in buckets of honey that I could feel squishing between my toes.

His mouth was on mine and I felt something shoot through me like a lightning rod. Almost as quickly as they had come, his lips were now gone and I had this weird taste in my mouth. The jolt in my body shot up to my face, enflaming my cheeks and I felt and tasted…wrong.

Edward was kneeling before me, expressionless, while my face continuously grew hotter.

"I honestly don't know how you can look at yourself in the mirror and not feel disgusted," he smiled smugly.

"I can't." The words tumbled out of my mouth, an unstoppable reflex.

Flying off my bed, I ran down the hall, cringing as each of the picture frames on the walls cracked and crashed to the floor. Everything was dark again, except for the light glowing through the cracks of the closed bathroom door and the shine of moonlight on glass even though there weren't any windows.

I threw the door open and froze in front of the mirror.

My lips were severely chapped and black and there were tiny black vein looking lines shooting across the planes of my face—crawling their way up from my lips to my cheeks.

They stung like tiny cuts in my skin, sliding deeply and jagged. Screaming and wincing, I tried to splash water on my face—anything to make it stop. The black veins carved up the bags under my eyes, heading straight through my lashes.

And it stopped.

The pain. The screaming. The panic.

It all stopped.

I sat up, shaking with the flow of the curtains along my open window and blinking back tears. That nightmare shook me deep down to my bones, for reasons I couldn't really understand. I brushed my cheeks with my fingers, sighing in shaky relief when there weren't any indentations.

Once I recovered from my nightmare, I pulled myself together as best as I could and got ready for school. Even as I passed the mirror in the bathroom, I didn't dwell on what I saw yesterday. The nightmare was still fresh, the image of my black veined skin burned in my retinas. If I checked, or thought too much about what I saw in the mirror yesterday, chances were it would disappear.

I couldn't bear to see that.

Grabbing my backpack, I moved to sit on the edge of my bed. Edward's book found its way into my hands, my fingers trailing down the shiny cover in reverence. This belonged to Edward. He carried this to school day after day. His long and slender yet powerful hands slid down these pages, flipping and stopping at points of interest. His lungs expelling unnecessary breath and entwining him with the descriptions of basic Chemistry.

I wasn't looking forward to giving this back.

When Edward left me, he took everything. Every trinket and prized possession that reminded me of him, and he took it. The only thing I had left were memories which would undeniably fade as the years go on, no matter how hard I try to retain them.

I didn't want to give the book back.

It was irrational to want to keep school property, especially when the item didn't even belong to the Edward I was desperate to remember. But even though he wasn't the same person my heart pined for, I wanted it. I wanted something to remember Edward by, even if it wasn't the _same_ Edward.

It was all terribly confusing—my feelings for Edward.

Were these feelings directed at the Edward from my world, or this one? I knew who the heartbreak, the pain, and the lost love were all directed at. But what about these other feelings?

Gold or green?

The Sun or the Earth?

The earth needs the sun to survive, but what is a world without the luscious and vibrant green?

Dull and dead—a pointless brown.

…

"What the hell is the matter with you?"

I looked up from my notes, taking in the sight of Eric's greasy hair and leather jacket. His choice of clothing reminded me of _Grease_ and he was fuming in a way that created the image of him doing a big musical number to release his frustration.

"What?" I sighed, wishing for the curtain of my hair more than ever. Heeding Mr. Banner's warning I had worn the appropriate attire. The requirements didn't faze me except for having to tie my hair back and I even kept an extra hair tie on my wrist just in case. Depending on my shield had become a daily habit and now I was left to fend for myself.

Eric hadn't attempted to talk to me since that first day. Now that I knew he wasn't the same, his outfit seemed a little less ridiculous. Well, _not really_, but at least now I understood it. He pulled a chair out, mimicking the same position he took the last time.

"I heard about what happened to Tyler," he gritted his teeth.

I decided to play dumb. There wasn't any reason to reveal any information without knowing what he knew first. I really didn't want the attention.

"What happened?" I asked, widening my eyes for dramatic effect. Admittedly, it might have been a tad much, especially with my less than mediocre acting skills.

"Lauren saw you two. She saw you and Tyler together and then _Cullen_ shoving him in a locker. Mind explaining that?" he raised an eyebrow.

"_Edward_ was just helping me out," I defended.

He glared at me huffing in annoyance and fueling my own temper.

"What was he supposed to do? Let Tyler continue to _sexually assault_ me?" That was melodramatic, but Eric was really getting on my nerves. Besides with the way Tyler was acting, it seemed like things were going to progress that way…

Eric's fist came slamming against the desk, causing me to jump. "He was _supposed _to mind his own damn business while you and Tyler were in the middle of your exchange!"

I let out a hollow chuckle. "_Exchange? _And_ what _pray tell might we be_ exchanging?_"

He shifted his eyes around the classroom, as if he was about to share a secret and didn't want anyone overhearing. The rest of the class was talking about a party on Saturday and didn't seem to be paying attention to us. Finally satisfied with what he saw, he leaned forward to speak quietly.

"You know damn well what you were _supposed _to exchange. Damnit Isabella! He was our only contact. Now what the hell will we do?" He rubbed his chin, glaring at his watch. It seemed out of place with the rest of his attire and when he noticed my gaze, he stuffed his hand in his jacket pocket, hiding his wrist and the peculiar watch.

---

"Oh my goodness! Bella, _are you okay?_"

I was bombarded with questions and a hug as Rosalie fussed over what happened yesterday with Tyler. Apparently word had gotten around school when a freshman girl opened her locker and Tyler fell on top of her. She was a little traumatized by the incident, Tyler's unconscious body having fallen on her petite form. Her equally small friends were too weak to lift the large football player off of her.

"I'm fine," I reassured her, recounting how Edward showed up in the nick of time and pried him off of me. I didn't tell her about the argument I got into earlier with Eric. It wasn't that I didn't trust her, I just had a feeling it was something I should keep to myself until I know all of the details.

"I can't believe that slime ball had his grubby paws all over you. And that stupid girl just stood there gawking like an idiot!" This looked more like the Rosalie I knew. She was angry and powerful; glaring at anyone that glanced at me, like each one of them had convinced Tyler to come after me. I almost felt bad for them, until _she_ spoke.

"Quite the attention whore," Angela sang.

Rosalie's glare shifted toward her, her lips pursed and I imagined her snapping Angela's neck like a toothpick. Angela wasn't oblivious to her irritation.

"What are you looking at Blondie? This is an _A and B_ conversation. Why don't you _C_ your way out of it?" she sneered, smirking at what she probably thought was a very original and clever joke.

Angela would definitely regret that comment.

To my surprise, Rosalie didn't explode with rage like I thought she would. Her acid tongue did not make an appearance, but hid in her closed mouth instead. She didn't snap her neck or throw any objects at her head.

She just sat there, diverting her eyes to her hands with a sad frown. In that moment, I felt a sort of kinship with her. This Rosalie wasn't like the other. She wasn't tenacious or outspoken and looked like she didn't enjoy confrontation.

Angela continued with a smug grin, "I can understand Tyler's problem… He has always been a _low achiever_ and an admirer of all things _trash_, what about you Miss Ugly Duckling? I don't think I have ever heard of you saying _no._"

I rolled my eyes before glancing worriedly at Rosalie. She was so quiet and defeated…I wanted to repay some of her kindness. Angela giggled at something, but I didn't bother figuring out what because class had started. I was happy to have Rosalie sitting next to me today and wondered how she had managed the switch when there was most likely a seating chart.

Opening my notebook to a blank page, I scribbled a quick note. I looked at Rosalie a little uncertainly, before ripping it out, folding it, and sliding it in front of her. Sending me a small smile upon reading it, she tossed me her response.

_I'm fine._

It was a lie, of that much I was certain, but I didn't want to pry. After everything she had done for me, I knew I owed her the same courtesy. Hopefully she would feel comfortable enough to talk to me later about whatever it is that is making her so sad. I had a feeling that whatever was bothering Rosalie didn't really have anything to do with Angela's words.

---

The morning passed without incidence. I was left alone after Calculus, apart from Jessica questioning my wellbeing once she overheard the gossip about Tyler and me. Jessica's curiosity didn't seem to derive from a thirst for gossip, but actual concern.

Maybe one day I would get used to all of the behavioral changes.

The walls of the Chemistry room were covered in emergency procedure signs. My personal favorite was "Don't drink the chemicals". Anyone stupid enough to drink a corrosive acid deserved whatever harmful effects it would cause. Each lab table had two long tubes hooked up to a stand, one volumetric flask, two aprons, two pairs of goggles, and two pairs of gloves.

While I may not be in any danger of consuming the chemicals, there was no doubt in my mind that all of the safety precautions would be rendered useless when it came to my clumsiness and bad luck.

Mr. Banner went over the procedure, taking extra care to explain the emergency procedures in the off chance that an accident did occur. He assured us that he hadn't had any accidents during this lab since he started teaching here. A flawless record and if nature had its way, I would most likely be the one to break it.

Pulling the apron over my head, I turned and tugged, trying but not quite reaching the strings enough to tie the back. I froze when a pair of cool hands encircled my wrists and moved my hands to dangle stiffly at my sides. The black material hugged my body tighter and I jumped when I felt a tiny bit of cool pressure against my lower back.

The pressure disappeared and the black material hung around my body once more when I turned around. Edward was standing behind me, his apron already on and his goggles pushed up to rest on top of his head, squishing some of his hair down while the rest poked out at different angles. Although I was certain I looked ridiculous, Edward made the ensemble appear worthy of a four page magazine spread.

His eyes were the color of a cherry stem with a faint hint of the fruit itself lingering around his pupils. He handed me a pair of gloves which I accepted wordlessly, following suit as he slid his own over his hands.

"Remember to be careful when you use the stopcock," I rolled my eyes at the laughs and giggles brought on by Mr. Banner's use of that word, "because it doesn't take much to elicit a reaction."

Strapping on the goggles proved to be less eventful then putting on the apron, but now that I was entirely ready, the nerves began to sink in.

Would I be the cause of Mr. Banner's first chemical spill?

If I did, would acid be corrosive to Edward's skin?

Yes, vampires are indestructible apart from being ripped to shreds by another vampire or being set on fire, but no one had ever mentioned acid. Besides, in an alternate universe…who really knows? Maybe the vampires in this world were vulnerable to acid, disease, or any number of ailments. Maybe they were powerless against garlic or crosses, and could be killed with a wooden stake to the heart!

"Do you understand what to do?"

I was still blatantly staring at him as I thought about all of the terrible accidents I could cause when he spoke, resulting in a deep blush and my eyes darting to the floor. Words evaded me as I tried to think of a response.

_How about yes? No? Maybe so?_

Even with all of the obvious answers tickling the tip of my tongue, I couldn't make them leave my slightly agape mouth.

The side of Edward's mouth turned up into a smirk, "In lamens terms, we need to create the color change Mr. Banner demonstrated by adding just the right amount of acid to base and vice versa."

_He still thinks I'm an idiot_, I realized dejectedly.

Sensing my reluctance or possibly deciding I was too stupid to do it on my own, Edward quickly completed the first couple of steps, writing down the measurements in his elegant script. In no time at all, he had some of each chemical in his flask swirling around and colliding together to create the exact shade of pink Mr. Banner demonstrated.

Mr. Banner must have been watching our table because he immediately addressed him the moment he finished. "Alright Mr. Cullen, now you need to bring me your volumetric flask to trade for a new one for Miss Swan."

Edward's triumphant smile disappeared at the mention of my name, shifting to a grimace and then a carefully placed straight line. He walked passed me, averting his eyes to his flask like the chemicals were likely to shoot from the glass any second. His demeanor had changed so abruptly. You would think I would be used to Edward's mood changes by now, but they still threw me for a loop.

He returned with the clean flask, making sure I had a good grip before letting it go and stepping back. He didn't make any comments or jokes, unlike when he was completing the assignment. Something was clearly bothering him and I could only hope it wasn't because of me. Although, I was fairly certain it was.

I was holding the flask with two hands, desperately trying to remember what Edward had done. I knew the directions, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to go terribly wrong. Edward was tapping his foot, impatient for me to start. Mr. Banner had made it perfectly clear that we would only be permitted to leave once each partner was done with the experiment. Glancing at the worksheet, I noted in surprise that once of the answers was already filled in.

"That was the original measurement," Edward explained.

Nodding, I finally released the flask from my death grip and began taking my own measurements for the next question. Once the first few steps were done, it was time to utilize the acid and base. Taking a deep breath, I picked up the flask and placed it underneath one of the burets.

I moved back and forth between chemicals, adding a little of each one before stirring the contents with the jerk of my wrist. The experiment was a lot less dangerous than I thought it would be, but also far less easy. Each time the contents of the flask would start turning the right shade of pink, it would disappear immediately after stirring.

The mixture was clear again after another failed attempt and I couldn't stop the release of a groan. At this rate, I would be here all day.

"Common sense dictates that if it did not work the first time, maybe you should try something different."

While frustratingly attempting to create the correct color, I had almost entirely forgotten Edward's presence.

"I _have_ tried different amounts. It just isn't working."

"Clearly," he replied dryly.

"Some of us aren't perfect," I mumbled as I stirred my latest failed attempt.

Edward chuckled loudly, causing me to jump in surprise. I seemed to be jumping a lot lately.

"I am far from perfect."

Withholding a snort, I placed the flask on the lab table and turned toward Edward. Whatever I had meant to say was out the window when I looked down at my wrist after feeling a slight burning sensation. Following my gaze, Edward gasped when he noticed the liquid underneath my glove.

Ripping off the glove unthinkingly, I stared at my wrist in bewilderment, trying to find where the injury was, but all I could see was my brown hair tie.

"Some of the chemicals are probably trapped between your hair tie and your skin." Edward grabbed my hand urgently, leading me to the back of the classroom. Everyone else was still too preoccupied to notice us and I should have alerted the teacher, but I couldn't think with Edward's hand on my contaminated wrist, soothing the burn with his cool skin. Edward quickly filled a tub with cold water and added baking soda before submerging my wrist.

"Keep the infected area in there while I go notify Mr. Banner," Edward instructed, waiting for my nod before walking to the front of the classroom.

Ever since we were assigned this lab I knew something bad would happen, but despite my knowledge, I couldn't shake the feeling of being a complete failure. No wonder Edward thought so poorly of me, when I was unable to do even the simplest of tasks.

"That's enough for today everyone. Please clean up and go to your next class. Miss Swan seems to have had an accident and I must go speak with the principal," Mr. Banner announced. The rest of the class looked back at me before cleaning up and leaving the classroom. Mr. Banner must have left with the students because when I looked back, there was only Edward.

Blushing furiously at my inability to complete a Chemistry assignment without having an accident, I looked up at Edward who was now leaning against the counter.

"You should be more careful."

"Sorry," I murmured, bowing my head. How could I ever compete with someone so perfect?

"What's that?"

In order to follow Mr. Banner's instructions, I had worn a shirt today that didn't cover my arms. Unfortunately, I had forgotten about my scars.

I pointed at the scar from my last birthday. "This? I accidentally cut it with some glass."

"No. This one," Edward touched the crescent moon shape with his index finger, glancing at me in a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. "What happened?"

**A/N: For those of you who didn't know: a ****stopcock**** is **_**a valve that regulates the flow of fluid through a pipe **_**and a ****buret**** (also spelled "burette") is **_**a uniform-bore glass tube with fine gradations and a stopcock at the bottom, used especially in laboratory procedures for accurate fluid dispensing and measurement.**_** I chose **_**Chemicals React **_**as the song for this chapter because they were handling chemicals and it just seemed so perfect.**

**You know the drill: review and you get a preview of the next chapter.**


	13. Chapter 11: Common Courtesy

**Disclaimer: Twilight and all of its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The plot is mine.**

Chapter 11: Common Courtesy

Song: "Build God, Then We'll Talk" –_Panic! At The Disco_

_Lying aside, she really needs his money_

_A wonderful caricature of intimacy._

***

The hum of the contact swam underneath my skin, combining with his penetrating gaze to create a traitorous cocktail of bodily reactions. Thoughts simmered away as unprocessed words drifted out from behind my lips like the release of steam.

"I fell."

Edward slid his fingertip along the marking, back and forth in a gentle relay; his soft touch could have been the tingling of a shadow. He leaned forward so that his lips were close enough to my ear that the almost-contact hurt and my eyes slid shut.

"Liar," he whispered, sending a shivering wave down my spine.

When I peeked out from under my lashes, he was gone. My breathing was ragged as I collapsed into a nearby chair. I should have remembered the scars when I dressed this morning and I should have either ditched or came up with a better lie. The important question was how did he know I was lying?

Was it my poor acting skills? Could he pinpoint the lie in my thoughts?

Before Mr. Banner or anyone else could return, I removed my wrist from the bucket and picked up my stuff with my other arm. Allowing the water to drip off my skin, I hastily left the room and went through the hallway to the parking lot. I wasn't sure how long it would be before I would feel the burning of the acid again, so I knew I needed to move quickly.

Dropping my belongings into the bed of my truck to free up my hands, I shoved the key in and felt relief at the sound of the lock clicking. The key was out and the handle turned, all I needed to do was hoist myself into the cab. With one hand on the door, the other on the frame and my foot to push up from the ground, I pulled my body up. A sharp pain shot through my wrist at the added pressure to my injured hand and I lost my footing as my shoe slid on the icy pavement.

I was flying backwards, waiting for the sickening crunch that comes with hitting your head on asphalt, when my body finally impacted with something hard and cold.

"That wasn't smart," the stone whispered in my ear.

"I should have used my elbow," I mumbled, referring to my tactic for getting into my truck.

"Perhaps, but I was not referring to the manner in which you chose to enter this red deathtrap."

My brows furrowed in confusion, "What were you referring to?"

"It was not smart to try to leave without me."

"Was there another way for me to leave?" I released the question in a shallow breath.

"Yes."

Edward's eyes were searching mine and the urge to cower away was ever present. He wouldn't find anything in those pools of emptiness besides deceit and memories that refuse to stay locked away in the recesses of my mind.

My suspicions were confirmed when he righted my body and his arms left my waist. My skin burned with abandonment, my heart aching in a similar rhythm. It was a sheer battle of will to refrain from whimpering at the loss.

Edward gestured toward his Volvo after a brief silence, initiating for me to lead the way. I suppose this made the situation easier for him, not having to look at my face. His gaze hadn't landed on me since his searching moments ago.

I didn't bother trying to open the door for myself, knowing that no matter the universe, Edward would always be a gentleman. I did however take a moment to survey the vehicle, remembering so many things that were effectively thinning the mask I had put in place. It was hard to keep up pretenses with so many reminders, so many glaring similarities of everything I had lost.

The drive to my house was tense with silence and done at a reasonable speed. Although his fast driving had always scared me, I somehow missed the shapeless blurs of colors. We arrived quickly anyway and I decided not to linger, pulling the handle immediately upon stopping. It didn't open.

Idiotic didn't quite cover how I felt in that moment, my skin burning brightly as I unlocked the door and tried again. There was another click and the door remained shut despite my frustration.

"I can't get it open," I mumbled in defeat, blushing even more at my incapability to get out of a car.

"I know."

"Can you help me?"

"No."

This time I turned my head from glaring at the window to look at him with a raised eyebrow. "Why not?"

"Common courtesy," he answered seriously.

"Common courtesy is unlocking the door so that your passenger can leave," I grumbled.

"No, common courtesy is thanking the person who took the time out of his day to give you a ride home."

Guilt washed over me. "I'm sorry, you're right. That was rude of me. Thank you for the ride." I waited for the click of the unlocking mechanism, but it never came. Edward sat in his seat, drumming his fingers on the faded dark blue of his jeans and staring at me.

"Can you unlock the door?" I asked, although I did enjoy being this close to him. The inside of the car smelled like honey, lilac, and strangely enough, cinnamon. The added flavor tickled my nose in a pleasing way, but being encased in it was becoming far too much. The added scent only reminded me of what it wasn't and who I would never see again.

"No," he smirked.

"What do you want?" I beseeched, feeling defeated and hoping I could make it out of his car before I fell apart. His mouth opened, his jaw set in a serious way, the way a doctor looks right before they tell a patient's family that there's nothing they can do. That their loved one is going to die and there's no hope, no stopping it. I winced as the prickling burn returned to my wrist.

Whatever he was about to say quickly vanished and I was a little irritated with my inability to control my bodily reactions. Even though his words probably wouldn't have been pleasant, I was curious. Call it morbid curiosity.

"What were you thinking removing your wrist from that tub? You need to neutralize the burn," he glared.

I scoffed, "I would be neutralizing the burn right now if you would have stopped playing with the door lock."

Edward flinched and I immediately regretted mentioning it. A faint click sounded in the silence. "Go."

"Look I—"

"Go!" he yelled, glaring at the steering wheel his hands were gripping tightly. His jaw was set, his whole body tense.

I quickly scrambled out of the car and stood next to the open door. "I'm sor—"

He hit the gas, cutting off my apology and using the sudden start to shut the passenger door as he sped off down the street.

---

With my wrist soaking in a large bowl of water and baking soda, I glared at the bottle in my hands. What was wrong with Edward? Why was he acting so _playful_ one minute and then yelling at me the next? What had I done to anger him?

I was debating about what to do next. On the one hand, I wanted to drown my problems in the sweet bottle of relief in my hands, but I was also starting to feel like doing so would be wrong. I had known drinking wasn't the right way to go about dealing with my issues from the beginning, but the end had always justified the means.

I discarded the glass bottle on the table at the sound of a knock on the door. In the back of my mind I realized it might have been better if I had hid the bottle away from prying eyes, but I was already turning the knob of the door, so I ignored common sense.

"Hi Bella. Can I come in?" Rosalie asked in uncertainty.

I nodded, walking into the kitchen to put my wrist back into the soothing water. She shut the door behind her, following me into the room with a worried frown on her face.

"I heard about what happened. Are you alright?" I nodded again, pointing at the seat across from me which she took with a grateful smile.

"Edward helped," I added because somehow I felt like it needed to be said.

The smile disappeared. "I know. I brought you your truck. It's parked outside." Rosalie set the keys in the middle of the table.

"Thanks."

We sat together quietly, neither of us having anything else to say. I didn't want to seem rude by telling her I was in the middle of something, but I did want to get back to the bottle whose existence Rosalie seemed to have neglected.

"Bella, I was wondering if I could talk to you?"

"Sure, what's on your mind?" I asked, surprised she had anything else to say.

"So I know we barely know each other and I really have no right to ask this," she fidgeted, twisting one of her fingers around a loose strand of her scarf, "But you asked me if I was okay earlier and no one ever asks and I thought maybe I would feel a little better if I talked about it," she rambled, staring intently at what her fingers were doing.

"Rosalie, you've helped me so many times since I got here. I would be happy to listen to anything you wanted to tell me."

Rosalie smiled, releasing the gray strand from between her fingers. "Ok," she glanced around the room, "Where should I start?"

It was almost funny how childlike this Rosalie was. She didn't seem to have any faith in herself, completely contrasting the Rosalie I once knew.

"Start at the beginning?" I asked, having no clue what she wanted to tell me.

"Ok," she breathed, taking a deep breath before beginning. "When I was human, I was the beautiful daughter of my father and mother, a bank owner and a socialite. They loved me like a jeweled crown, seeing my beauty as a precious commodity. I never minded the way they used my looks to garner attention because in all honesty, I loved it. Nothing made me happier than an opportunity to flaunt my long golden hair, or my flawless face," Rosalie twirled the end of her ponytail, almost wistfully.

"A wealthy man named Royce King expressed some interest in me. My parents were overjoyed by what our marriage would mean for their status and pressed me to marry him. I didn't really care either way, but I was happy when he proposed. I wanted a lavish wedding where everyone could admire me," she admitted bitterly. "I wanted a child too."

"Royce paraded me around on his arm, like the adornment I was always meant to be. Again, I didn't mind it because it was a chance to be seen and envied. Soon I was to have a spectacular house and he would give me the child I had always wanted. I had always loved babies."

"One day I went to visit my friend Vera and I will admit that I spent more time doting on her adorable child than speaking with her. He was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, a little boy with dark curls and wide hazel eyes," Rosalie sighed. "Anyway, it had gotten late and although I knew I should have waited for an escort to take me home, I decided to walk alone that night."

"During my trek back, I passed by a local bar and was a little ashamed to notice my husband to be leaning over one of the tables with his friends, nursing what was probably one of many bottles that night," Rosalie stopped, staring at the bottle of Vodka on the table.

I watched her reach out and for the bottle and turn it in her hands, expecting her to lecture me about the dangers of alcoholism. She didn't mention it or look at me; she just sighed and set it back on the table.

"He hadn't drunk much in my presence before that night, just the occasional glass of wine when we were at parties. He spotted me in the window and called his friends to follow him as he came out to meet me. A woman among five inebriated men is never a good combination and I should have just walked away, but I didn't."

"Royce wanted me to…he wanted me to show them something I was unwilling to disclose," Rosalie choked, her golden eyes welling with tears that she would never shed. "When I refused, he struck me. I admit I was completely useless at that point. I might have been in shock from the blow, for no one had ever struck me before—least of all my husband to be."

"They gagged me with my own gloves while they took turns…defiling me." Rosalie's voice was so quiet it was almost inaudible. "I couldn't scream for help and I most certainly couldn't fight them all off. From the day I was born I was placed upon a pedestal above others for my beauty, never given the opportunity to exert myself or build any type of sufficient muscle mass. They threw be around like I was a rag doll."

"When they finished, they just left me there in the alley they had drug me into, lying in a puddle of my own blood. They thought they had beaten me to death, but they were wrong. I was barely breathing and unable to move, but I was alive."

I could see myself in that alley with those men from Port Angeles. The images flitted right before my eyes in a sickening slideshow of everything that could have been if not for Edward showing up when he did.

"That was when Edward found me. I didn't know much about him, except that he was very attractive and I was intimidated by that. To this day, it still surprises me that he would even bother taking me to Esme."

"Esme?" I asked in confusion.

"Yes, Esme's control knows no parallel. How she was able to do it four times is beyond me."

"Do what?"

Rosalie looked up from her scarf with question in her eyes. "I thought you knew about how vampires are created?"

"I do," I said slowly, "But what does that have to do with Esme? I thought Carlisle was the one who changed all of except Alice, Jasper, and himself?"

"Carlisle? Oh no I don't think he could ever handle something like that. He has trouble enough with paper cuts."

"Carlisle has trouble dealing with blood?" I asked doubtfully. Carlisle had an amazing amount of restraint. He was the only one able to stay when I cut my finger on my birthday… Then again, in an alternate universe…anything could happen.

"He does. It's a shame because I know how much he would love to work side-by-side with Esme."

"What does Esme do?"

"She works as a nurse in Forks Hospital," Rosalie smiled. "You should see her in action. She is such a caring person and even though our kind usually puts people off, everyone loves her."

"That sounds like Esme."

"How is she in your universe?"

"Exactly the way you described her, except she isn't a nurse. She does a lot of interior decorating, but I don't think she has a job. Carlisle is—_was_ a doctor at Forks Hospital."

"Really?" she asked curiously. "Our Carlisle isn't really able to function in a public workplace so he mostly just dabbles in different things from home."

We spent a couple more hours talking about some of the differences between my world and theirs. Nothing too major was discussed and she seemed to be purposely steering away from anything having do to with when she was changed or earlier today, so I figured she would tell me when she was ready.

"Bella?"

"Yea?" I sat up a little, leaning on my elbows. In an effort to make me more comfortable, Rosalie had removed a couple blankets from the linen closet to spread out on the living room floor. It was kind of nice having her to talk to, especially when we stuck to trivial topics. I was so busy being depressed about losing Edward that I didn't even think of Alice. I realized now how much I missed spending time with her and doing stuff with friends.

"So I know I kind of changed the subject earlier," she started, pausing to glance at me.

I tried to smile reassuringly. "You don't owe me anything. If you want to talk about it, I'll listen. If not, that's fine."

She smiled gratefully, taking a deep breath like she had earlier. "Well ever since that night…the night that I was attacked, I haven't really felt the same. It's hard to explain, but I just…don't feel right," Rosalie mumbled, picking up her scarf and fiddling with one of the threads again. It was probably a nervous tick.

"I just feel completely wrong. Like there's something wrong with me…"

"Rosalie that's nons—"

She cut me off, "Did you know that I practically knew what was going to happen that night?" She glanced up at my confused expression when I didn't respond before continuing, "They made threats before they started and I knew without a doubt that they were telling the truth."

"How did you know?"

Rosalie smiled grimly, "I was always a really good judge of character. I may not have been a good person, but I could tell by listening to other people. Something in their voices and their statements allowed me to pick up on the amount of truth in it. That's what bothers me the most about what happened that night. I should have known before then Royce's true nature, but I was preoccupied with my petty goals. It seemed a bit ironic that I would have my gift after making such a huge mistake."

My eyes widened. "You have a gift?"

"Yes…doesn't the Rosalie from your universe have one?"

"No, only Alice, Jasper, and…uh," I gulped.

She nodded, already figuring out who I was about to say. "I have the ability to detect sincerity. It isn't necessarily the truth like an absolute fact, more that I can tell how a person truly feels about a certain subject." I nodded with furrowed brows, not really understanding exactly what she meant.

"Let me give you an example… Ok if a man told his wife she is a great cook, but doesn't really think so, I'd be able to detect that comment as being insincere. Now if a mental patient said they could talk to ghosts and truly believed it, regardless of whether the person can or not, I would detect it as sincere."

"So someone could lie to you without you knowing as long as they believe the lie?"

"Exactly."

"I hate my truck."

"Insincere."

"I really enjoy participating in Gym."

"Insincere."

"I am really clumsy."

"Sincere," Rosalie laughed. "That's not really a fair question though, as I'm sure people have started to notice." I nodded, wondering if I had ruined that portion of Isabella's reputation. Was she clumsy like me? Did she have the balance of a ballerina?

"It isn't anything too special, but it comes in handy sometimes," Rosalie muttered, selling herself short.

"Not anything special? If you had a lasso you could be the blonde version of Wonder Woman," I remarked in awe.

Rosalie's usually reserved giggle echoed throughout the empty house. "That has to be the coolest thing anyone has every said to me."

**A/N: I have started a new story called **_**Slaves to our Nature**_**. Please read and review, the link is on my profile.**

**I am not entirely sure how long the burn of that type of acid lasts or if you could even remove it and make a trip home without feeling it, but it worked for what I wanted to do with this chapter.**

**The 300th review chapter will be posted as soon as I perfect it, which shouldn't be too long. The chapter will be from Bella's original universe and in a different point of view.**

**Reviewers get a preview. Also if you haven't already, you should change the way you view these chapters to the half option (right above the where you select the chapter).**


	14. Chapter 12: Missing

**Disclaimer: Twilight and all of its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The plot is mine.**

**A/N: This story has reached over 300 reviews. Thank you so much for taking time out of your day to let me know what you think. I appreciate it more than you can imagine. This chapter is not in Edward's point of view because honestly, Charlie would probably have tried to shoot him. Please don't shoot me… Reviewers get a preview, as always.**

Chapter 12: Missing

Song: "Through Glass" –_Stone Sour_

_I'm looking at you through the glass._

*******

**Alice**

The door burst open, a ragged Charlie already standing halfway out the doorway with eyes full of hope as he gazed down at me. He must not have recognized me at first because once his eyes finally met mine, he sighed dejectedly, his eyes growing infinitely sad. All trace of hope was now gone.

"Oh. _ Alice_. What are you doing here?" his tone was laced with disappointment.

"Hi Charlie," I replied as sweetly as I could. "I was wondering if I could speak with Bella?" I asked hopefully. I knew there was just something wrong with my visions. If I could only see Bella for a few minutes to reaffirm what I already know is correct, I would be able to continue to ignore these visions like my brother had so vehemently demanded.

My question only seemed to further depress Charlie, his shoulders slumping even more than they did when he first saw me. He looked passed me, "She isn't here," he replied. It sounded like an automatic response.

I tried to hide my urgency to speak to her. "Ok. Do you know when she'll be back?"

Charlie clenched his eyes shut and his body shook as he took a deep breath. I could see a faint layer of dirt coating his skin and his clothes were wrinkled, suggesting he hadn't showered or changed his clothes in quite some time. Staring at this anguished Charlie while he was likely attempting to withhold sobs, was disturbing. This was a man close to breaking.

Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around him. Being short made the hug slightly awkward and the shiver that ran through his body was an indication that it held no warmth, but he readily returned the gesture.

"What happened, Charlie?" I asked slowly, though I knew it had to be bad. I wouldn't allow myself to panic though. I had been panicking enough and it wouldn't do well to jump to conclusions until I knew the whole story.

"She's gone Alice," he whispered, his voice thick. "Bella's gone."

Before Charlie's words could take their full effect on me, I heard the ear splitting growl that was so full of sorrow, it would surely be considered the sound of ultimate suffering.

…

I didn't let his words deter me. I couldn't let them overwhelm me. I needed to have all of the information. Until then, I would need to hold in my emotions. It was up to me to find out what happened. I had a job to do. Then I could panic and allow the devastating sadness to penetrate me.

After coaxing Charlie into the house and brewing a pot of coffee which I could tell he sorely needed, he looked a little less frazzled.

"Charlie…what happened to Bella? Where is she?" I didn't really want to press him in his current state, but this couldn't wait. I loved Bella deeply and I _needed_ to know everything. To know that she's safe, wherever she is.

He stared into his coffee mug, halting his sips. "She was never the same after your family left," he whispered before adding, "After _he _left her."

His hands were shaking around the mug, clearly from anger. "He left her out there—out there in the forest. All alone...in the dark…in the rain. Did you know that?" he spat at the black coffee he was now glaring at.

He thought Edward had just left her out there. If he knew the true reason for my brother's departure, if he knew of the pain my brother has been in ever since he left Bella, he would not think so poorly of him. I wasn't justifying his actions or anything. Actually, his choices were down right stupid sometimes. I just wish he could have seen that before this, _whatever this is_, happened.

"He didn't leave her out there," I defended, "she followed him out there."

He slammed his mug down on the kitchen table. "I'm not mad at you Alice, but _don't feed me his excuses._ This is all his fault and he should _know that._"

_Believe me Charlie. He does know it_, I thought sadly.

"Where is she?" I asked again. It was the most vital question and if I didn't get an answer, I was sure Edward would do something we would all regret. Or he might just explode.

"We were so worried about her in the beginning. The doctors were throwing around words like catatonic. We thought she'd never snap out of it," he sighed, taking a large gulp of the hot coffee.

"After we suggested sending her back to Phoenix to live with Renee, she sure snapped out of it pretty damn quickly. She threw a fit unlike any other I've seen. Telling you the truth, it scared the hell out of me and Renee. We agreed to let her stay in Forks and she seemed to improve. She was getting very good grades in class—she never missed a day. She almost seemed better. But she cried nearly every night and then there was the screaming."

"The screaming?" I asked.

"She had terrible nightmares. She refused to tell me what they were about, but I could hear the screaming and I knew the gist of what happened in them," he clenched his teeth.

"She wasn't okay, whenever I asked her. She was looking really thin—too thin. I think she only ate during breakfast for my benefit. And then there were her eyes. Looking into them…" he trailed off with a shudder.

I couldn't imagine what memories were plaguing his mind, but I hoped Edward wasn't still close by. No doubt those images would haunt Edward for the rest of eternity.

Without the knowledge of what this visit would bring, I was operating blindly. I thought I had done a good job of keeping my thoughts hidden from him, but looking back now, I suppose it was a poor attempt on my part.

"There wasn't anything left. It was like looking into a black hole or something. She'd make eye contact when I asked her a direct question, but it was like she wasn't really there. Like a part of her died that night," he whispered.

"It was selfish of me, but I stopped looking into her eyes. I thought maybe if she had some more time, she would just…get over everything. He was her first love, there was sure to be other boyfriends in her future. But she didn't look like a heartbroken teenager that lost her first love. She looked like her entire world had collapsed…like there wasn't anything worth living for without him in her life."

"The last day I saw her…I told her I was sending her to live with Renee. She wasn't getting any better and I think this place only reminded her of him. She didn't do anything anymore. I found all of her favorite books and CDs in the trash—luckily I got to them before they were taken to the dump. All she would do was stare at that damn clock. For hours, she would just stare at it. I'd catch her sometimes and I just wanted to smash that damn thing so much. But it was the only thing she did apart from cooking, cleaning, and schoolwork. Her body was on auto pilot."

Placing my hand on his, I offered what little comfort I could to help him continue. His facial hair was scruffy and hadn't been tended to for quite some time.

"A month ago, I came back from work to find her gone. She didn't leave a note, packing any clothes, nothing. All she seemed to do before leaving was clean the house." He let out a strangled laugh. "They have been pestering me to have a funeral, but I keep refusing." He sucked in a large gulp of coffee.

"What do you mean by funeral?"

"We can't find her Alice."

That doesn't make any sense. I may be having problems with my visions, but she has to be alive. I don't need a vision to tell me that.

"Don't think like that Charlie."

"We were trying to figure out what might have happened by going over where she had gone the days before her disappearance. One of my deputies told me she came into the station. Two weeks ago, we were taking inventory of the evidence room. Something was missing." He covered his face with his hands and his shoulders slumped even more than they did when he answered the door.

"What was missing?"

His shoulders shook as he spoke through his hands, "A cyanide pill."

…

"You need to calm down."

Edward continued to pace around the living room. "She wouldn't."

"Listen, Edward. We can't ignore the facts—"

"She wouldn't Alice," Edward spat through clenched teeth.

"I know it hurts to imagine, but you know what Charlie said—"

"No Alice. Charlie wasn't even acknowledging her. You _heard_ him _admit that._"

"What did you see in Charlie's memories?" I asked apprehensively. "Any clues as to where she could be?"

Edward stopped pacing and slid down the back of the couch until he was seated on the floor. "She looked so broken. So, _so_ _broken_. _I destroyed her_." Edward bowed his head into his hands, pulling at his disheveled hair.

I moved to sit beside him and draped my arm over his shoulders. I didn't try to comfort him because I knew there wasn't a thing anyone could do to alleviate his pain. The only one who could would be Bella. I just wish I could see her.

Edward's head snapped up. "What was that?"

"You can't blame yourself Edward. We need to focus on finding her."

"Don't even, Alice. I know you're hiding something," he glared.

"It's nothing. It's my own problem," I sighed, irritated that I had allowed that piece of information to flicker in my thoughts. I was doing so well too.

"Tell me."

Groaning, I closed my eyes and allowed my latest vision to flit through my head. I felt Edward stiffen beside me and opened my eyes to see his broken stare.


	15. Chapter 13: Little Scares and Touches

**Disclaimer: Twilight and all of its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The plot is mine.**

Chapter 13: Little Scares and Touches with Care

Song: "I've Just Seen a Face" –_The Across the Universe Soundtrack_

_She's just the girl for me_

_And I want all the world to see_

_We've met._

***

Rosalie kept me busy the rest of the night, effectively preventing me from partaking in my original plans for the evening. I wasn't too disappointed though because there was something about her that made shelving my problems easier. Her presence condensed all of my issues into a thick volume easily stowed away out of sight, although that tiny nagging feeling remains, just barely grazing the edge of my thoughts enough to taint them.

We didn't discuss Edward and I didn't question her about his behavior. Whether as a by-product of exhaustion or the almost cheerful thoughts I had during the night prior, I didn't dream. It seemed to be an inevitability that horrifying images and the sound of cracking bone would dominate my unconscious in the form of a nightmare after hearing Rosalie's story, but it didn't happen.

I stepped out of my truck's cab, unintentionally slamming the door.

"Your truck is already so close to death…I don't think inflicting unnecessary damage is the best way to avoid the Grim Reaper," a velvet voice whispered into my ear.

His abrupt close proximity surprised me causing my back to hit the side of my truck as I whirled around like a skittish animal. Every time I turned around, Edward was there and ready with some sort of quip as he sends my heart into overdrive.

That little organ was such a trooper. At the mercy of prowling vampires, being sent into sense and panic attacks, being torn out and stomped on…it still somehow managed to stay intact. Not in mint condition by any means, but it had yet to completely shatter, although it has felt that way on occasion.

It reminded me of _the little engine that could_, determined to continue pressing forward and never giving up.

"I wasn't aware that the Grim Reaper came after trucks."

Edward's smug smile grew, but there wasn't any humor in his eyes. "The Grim Reaper is after us all. Lurking in every shadow, salivating at the prospect of claiming our souls."

A shiver rippled down my spine from his words. I had no idea what to say, until I replayed his words and realized there was something there in what he had said.

…_salivating at the prospect of claiming _our _souls._

"Do you believe in souls?"

His gaze turned condescending. "I believe I made that answer quite obvious."

Rolling my eyes, I pressed on. "Right. What I mean is…do you believe that _you_ have a soul?" Edward had always believed that once a human became a vampire, they lost their soul and therefore, were doomed to hell. Of course I had always disagreed with him, the most vital piece of evidence being that it was simply impossible for someone like Edward to lack a soul, or ever be sent to hell.

Edward's eyes searched mine, the way he had been doing a lot lately. I was never sure what he was looking for when he did this, especially when he used humor to mask his expression. Sometimes I would get a glimpse of his true feelings in his eyes, but the things I saw were often too cryptic for me to make out.

"Yes," he finally answered slowly. "I do believe that I have a soul…" He trailed off, mumbling something incoherent to my ears. I really wanted to ask him what he had said after that, but the sound of the warning bell ringing caused me to lose my focus as I stared at the school.

When I turned back to Edward, he was gone.

…

Eric slid a chair around and scoot up to my desk in what was becoming a very irritatingly familiar gesture. "So I was thinking that you might be able to make up for Monday on Saturday."

"I'm not going," I mumbled, continuing to take notes. Eric must not have heard me, or he just didn't care because he kept blabbering on.

"It'll take some convincing and you may have to do a little more than usual, but I think—"

"I am not going to the party," I snapped, glaring up from my notebook.

Eric glanced up from his watch in disbelief. "What'd you mean? You're going…"

"No, I'm not."

Eric's eyes narrowed. "You are too," he argued.

I clenched my pen tightly in my hand. "I told you, I'm not. Parties aren't my thing," I finished lamely.

"Not your thing?" he repeated. "Since when?"

Knowing I did not have a good answer to that question, I ignored it. "I am not going," I said sternly in an attempt to get my point across.

Huffing in annoyance, Eric leaned forward over my desk and tapped the clock face of his watch.

"We'll see."

…

"Hey Bella."

"Hi Jess," I mumbled, still thinking about what happened earlier with Eric. Isabella must have been really close with him, what with the way he had spoken to me. There was definitely something going on, something not entirely innocent. There was also that watch he always wore.

Why did he make such a show of tapping it earlier? Was he trying to say without using words that my time is running out? What was my time running out for?

"I was wondering if on Saturday—"

"No, Jess. I'm not going to the party," I answered tiredly. Jessica's face fell and for a second I felt guilty, but then the hopeful smile returned.

"No, no…I wasn't asking you to go to the party," she explained.

"You weren't?"

"No, I wanted to know if you'd go shopping with me in Port Angeles? If you're busy, I totally understand. No pressure."

A small sigh sounded from my other side and I glanced over to see Rosalie twirling her pencil at a speed just barely faster than humanly possible. I cleared my throat, making a pointed glance at her hands. She stopped immediately, smiling sheepishly.

"Oh! You can come too Rosalie," Jessica added with a smile. So used to Jessica's fake smiles, I couldn't help but look at Rosalie to see if she was being sincere in her invitation. The grin on Rosalie's face was answer enough.

"I would love to!" Rosalie exclaimed excitedly. She composed herself after a moment, twisting her pen again before adding, "I mean, if it's alright with you, Bella. I wouldn't want to impose…"

I kind of wanted to laugh at her for her ridiculous insecurities. "Of course you can come, Rose." I yielded an almost completely real smile, the closest I had come in a long time, but I'm sure it still resembled more of a grimace. Fortunately, Rosalie could tell with her gift that I was being sincere, and just smiled brightly at me.

…

Mr. Banner grimaced at me as I sat down at the empty table, darting my eyes around the room periodically to ensure Edward wouldn't be able to surprise me. He would have to move at a human pace because of Mr. Banner and the few other students in here, but I wasn't going to underestimate his ability to sneak. He was constantly getting enjoyment out of scaring me and I was determined to make sure that didn't happen anymore.

After sweeping the room a couple more times, I relaxed a little, opting to stare fixatedly at the door instead. A couple people walked in, but none of them were Edward. When one of them raised their eyebrow at my staring, I dropped my gaze. I resumed my lookout a moment later, sighing in both relief and dread when I didn't see Edward.

Would he be gone today? Did my prying in the parking lot anger him, causing him to skip class?

"_Bella_."

I gasped, jumping in surprise at the voice in my ear and the cold breath on my neck. The force of my sudden movement caused my chair to tip over, so following my usual protocol, I clenched my eyes shut and waited for the impact of the floor. It never came.

Rather, something hard and prickling wrapped around my waist, holding me up from the floor in a horizontal fetal position.

"_You will always fall for me, Bella,_" his honey voice filled my veins like a soothing drug, easing my body out of its tense position. Once I had molded to his embrace, he righted my chair and sat me down.

I had no idea what to say, nor did I think I could speak after what had just happened, but thankfully, Mr. Banner chose to call class to order. More than anything, I just wanted his arms around me again.

Mr. Banner cleared his throat. "I know this was supposed to be a two day experiment, but due to yesterday's incident," he paused to glare at me, "we will be unable to continue. As an alternative, we will be watching a _video_ demonstrating the proper steps."

The class fell into easy conversation while he prepared the video. I glanced at Edward, stiffening at his posture. His fists were clenched, his jaw taut and his eyes deadly as he glared at Mr. Banner. Wanting to diffuse the situation, whatever it might be, I removed his Chemistry book from my backpack. Disappointed, but knowing it needed to be done to distract him; I slid the book over and waited patiently for him to acknowledge me. After what seemed like forever, Edward looked at it for a moment, before shifting his gaze to me.

"You forgot it the other day," I explained, wondering if he would be angry at me for taking it, or for my tardiness in returning it.

Edward looked at the book again, this time in confusion. "What took you so long?"

"I…uh…kept forgetting," I mumbled. Edward was staring at me curiously, all traces of anger gone. Dismissing his question, I diverted my attention back to the front, hoping he wouldn't figure out why it had really taken me so long.

…

"Can I borrow a pencil?" he asked, fanning his breath across my neck as he leaned toward me, and smirking when a shiver coursed through my body.

"Stop that," I snapped. My body couldn't take much more of his torment.

"Stop what? I just asked for a pencil," he said, feigning innocence.

"We're watching a video," I pointed out.

"I noticed. I wanted to take notes so I don't forget."

I snorted. "I'm sure you do."

Edward looked perplexed at my change in tone, but he didn't mention it.

…

The video was over and class had ended, freeing me from Edward's torment. Or so I thought.

"What'cha doin?"

"Walking."

"Why?"

"Because that's generally how I move from one place to another."

"False. You usually move from one place to another by _falling_."

I kept my face forward as I walked to class, trying to catch a glance of him in my peripherals. Edward had been unbelievably playful all day long, a great contrast to his usual demeanor. It was like a switch had been flipped and now the real seventeen year old Edward had come out. Possibly the _seven_ year old Edward.

"I don't fall that much," I lied because I felt like I needed to defend myself.

"Ah yes. And you never blush either." He flashed me his crooked grin and I chewed roughly on my bottom lip as I felt my face rise in temperature.

"And there it is!" he chuckled.

Thoroughly embarrassed and confused, I reached out to pull the girl's locker room door open. To my astonishment, the door wouldn't budge. Had someone locked it?

I dragged my gaze up the sickly green door to see a pale hand pressed firmly against it.

"Don't be ashamed of such a wonderful thing," Edward said in a tone that was most definitely not playful.

I chanced a peek up at him, gasping loudly when his other hand made contact with my burning cheek. He was staring down at me with some sort of strange emotion I couldn't label. Instinctively, I poked my tongue out to wet my lips. Edward caught the movement and his eyes darkened considerably like a vine smothered in ash.

"Red has always been my favorite color…" he trailed off, shamelessly staring at my mouth.

Perhaps that statement should have bothered me and in another situation, it might have. But right now, with one hand on the door and the other caressing my cheek with his thumb, he could have told me the ceiling was falling and I wouldn't have cared.

"G-Green," I choked out, my breathing labored and my skin tingling with anticipation.

"Hmm?" he asked, seemingly distracted.

"My favorite color is green." The words tumbled out of their own accord. I could only hope that he wouldn't ask why, but from the smirk on his face, I'm fairly certain he had already figured it out.

"Really?" he asked, somehow making his gaze increase in intensity.

"Mhm," I mumbled. My lips parted.

In an instant, his hands were gone and he was holding open the door to the locker room. I stared at the door in confusion, trying to figure out the sudden change. Had I imagined that he was about to kiss me only moments ago?

"After you Miss Stanley."

I snapped my head up to see Jessica slowly walking toward me, her face frozen in a very misleadingly calm mask. She slipped by as Edward held the door open for her, giving me a sideways glance that suggested she would want the details of whatever she had just walked in on, later.

My hand was still frozen midair, where I had been holding onto the handle before he had opened the door. I kept my eyes on my feet, too embarrassed to look up at him.

"Miss Swan."

I lifted my head just enough to see him nod at me before I took off into the locker room.

My legs were shaking as I made my way to my locker and I plopped down at one of the benches in an effort to reclaim some of my composure.

"What was that?" Jessica asked.

"Nothing."

"It didn't _look_ like nothing."

"Well, it was."

"You two seemed to be pretty chummy," she pressed.

I sighed. "There's nothing going on with me and him."

"Nothing going on with you and who?"

Rosalie was standing in front of her locker, depositing her gym clothes.

"Her and Edward," Jessica answered.

Rosalie raised an eyebrow at me. "Really?"

"There isn't anything going on between me and Edward," I reiterated.

"But you'd like there to be."

I stared at Rosalie, my mouth slightly ajar, trying to think of something to say. I couldn't.

**A/N: Sorry for this chapter being so short. I had two tests this week and another next week. Reviewers get a preview.**

**punkfaire and I are hosting a one-shot contest called **_**Haunted Twilight**_**. Write a one-shot revolving around Halloween with a minimum of 3,000 words. It doesn't have to be scary. It could be funny, romantic, whatever your creative little heart desires. The contest begins September 26 (today) and ends October 17. Submit your entries to the **_**Haunted Twilight Challenge**_** (link below and on my profile) or to either punkfarie or I. For full details and rules/guidelines, please go to the **_**Haunted Twilight Challenge**_** profile.**

**I look forward to reading your entries. I love Halloween. Don't forget to replace the "(dot)" with a "." in the link below.**

**Contest: http://www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/u/2094728/**


	16. Chapter 14: Nasty Little Surprises

**Disclaimer: Twilight and all of its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The plot is mine.**

Chapter 14: Nasty Little Surprises

Song: "Bout Ta Bubble" –_Tech 9_

_And drinkin and smokin and humpin and likin it._

***

"She really hates you."

"Yeah."

I switched back into the clothes I wore to school, glad to be out of my sweat drenched gym clothes. Mrs. Hall had worked me harder than ever today, claiming that my _excuse_ for being absent yesterday was a lie. She wouldn't let me get a note from Mr. Banner like I had suggested.

I waved bye to Jessica as I dragged my feet, which felt more like dead weight, to my truck.

Despite the aching of my legs and lungs, I felt lighter. My life still wasn't great, but things were definitely starting to look up.

…

After surveying the refrigerator and searching the cupboards once more, I came to the conclusion that it was definitely time for a trip to the grocery store. Standing on my tippy toes, I felt around the top of the refrigerator. Although I had checked there for the sole purpose of discovering money, I was still surprised to find an envelope stuffed with large bills and the words "Food Money" scrawled on it.

I felt a little guilty for using money that isn't mine, but I didn't think my checking account had magically transferred over when I woke up here, and never mind the fact that even if it had, I didn't have my debit card with me. I suppose I could just pay a visit to the bank and inquire about my account, but who knows what differences may exist in this universe. For all I know, Isabella could have a different social security number, or even a different middle name. Besides, it was already after five, so the only bank in Forks would already be closed anyway.

I started my truck, minding the volume dial of the radio as I shifted all of the vents toward me. I may have been doing better, but I wasn't doing well enough to suffer the different proclamations of love in an upbeat tune.

The drive to the grocery store took a little longer than usual, a direct effect of the steady downpour that must have started sometime while I was inside. This prolonged silence allowed more time to think, the exact kind of spare time I try to avoid. At this moment, there were several things on the forefront of my mind.

First, I had to wonder the reason for Edward's abrupt behavioral shift. Just this morning he didn't seem to be in too good of a mood, especially with the way he disappeared. What happened between that conversation and Chemistry?

Second, I couldn't stop thinking about Eric's pestering earlier. His faith in my attendance to that party was entirely misplaced, but it did bring up a few more questions about my missing counterpart. Would she have caved so easily to Eric's demands? Would she have allowed Tyler to take whatever he wanted from her if she _had_ been there instead of me?

Third and most important of all, did Edward know the truth? Sometimes he says or does things that make me think he knows, but other times he acts like he's completely in the dark.

If he does know…then why hasn't he said anything?

I walked through the doors, patting my front right pocket self-consciously. Charlie had once told me to keep my valuables in my right front pocket because not only is it harder to steal something when facing the person, it's also more secure when it's closest to the hand you use the most.

Thinking of Charlie made my stomach clench with a bitter feeling I had known for quite some time.

Guilt.

I tried to stifle it as I marched through almost every aisle, unsure of what exactly I needed.

I sifted through all the different brands and flavors of soup. This shopping excursion wasn't for leisure, and the food I would buy tonight wouldn't be anything special. I was purchasing food from necessity, not for my own enjoyment.

After grabbing a large box of crackers, I paused to survey the juice and soda section. Although I hadn't drunk much the last few days, I knew I would find a reason to do it again—it was just a matter of time. As much as I love the burn of alcohol as it goes down, it would be nice to take some of the edge off.

I picked up a bottle of that same cranberry juice from the other night, remembering how much I liked the way it mingled with the Vodka. I didn't know what else to get, so I took a two liter bottle of Sprite and Coke.

My feet stilled as I noticed Tyler at the end of the next aisle, viewing the store's selection of condoms. I had needed a bottle of shampoo which was placed directly to his left, but I didn't want to risk another confrontation, so I decided it would be best to pick it up another time. He hadn't noticed me yet, for he was far too preoccupied with the merchandise before him.

Of course, it would seem that my luck had just run out because darting into the next aisle placed me directly in the line of sight of Lauren.

She was wearing a denim jacket with colorful little jewels lining the collar, as well as the pockets of her matching denim shorts, which appeared to end just inches below her waist. Her blonde hair was sleeked back into a high pony tail with so much gel her scalp could have been mistaken for yellow concrete. Brown eyeliner and blue mascara framed her narrowed eyes.

Without much thought, I tried to walk passed like I hadn't noticed her, but that plan of escape was quickly foiled when she gripped the edge of my basket, causing me to jerk to a stop.

She peered into my basket, moving various things to get a better view of all of the items. I wanted to snap at her for being so nosy, but I was afraid my voice would carry and Tyler would hear. I wasn't naïve enough to hope the store's placid background music would help mask our voices.

I cleared my throat, hoping she would take the hint and release my stuff.

"Are you planning on paying for that?"

I furrowed my brows at her, confused by her question.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing…" I trailed off.

"There's something different about you," she wrinkled her nose in disgust.

I chewed on my lip, seriously considering leaving the basket of groceries and going home.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"What about Tyler?"

"Keep your voice down!" I urged in a whisper, looking around to see if he had heard us.

"That," she pointed at my face," right there. Since when do you _avoid_ Tyler? Usually all he has to do is give you that look, and you come running like a lap dog. I just don't get it. Doesn't he make it rain?"

"What?"

"Is it still called _making it rain_ when it isn't money?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Huh. I'll have to ask Angela about that. I'm sure we could come up with a name for your situation with Tyler."

"What situation with Tyler? What is it that you think Tyler and I do?"

She looked at me strangely. "Everyone knows. You can cut the act."

"Just answer the question," I persisted.

"You trade your body for drugs. You're a crack whore."

"W-What?" I sputtered.

"Jesus Christ. You really need to lay off the weed. It's screwing with your brain."

…

I walked up to the register, Lauren's words still ringing in my head.

"Haven't seen _you_ around the house lately."

I looked at the cashier for the first time, setting aside my thoughts for after I left the store.

"What?" I had never seen this woman in my life.

"You and Tyler have a fight?"

I'm sure I visibly paled at that. "Tyler?" How did this strange woman know about that? Did Tyler tell her? Why would he tell anyone?

"Humph." Whoever she was, she didn't appear pleased with my answer.

She gave me a weird look as I pulled the envelope of money from my pocket, but didn't say anything more except my total. I removed one of the hundreds; internally pleading she would have enough twenties in her register for my change.

Fortunately, she did, and with one more look—this time in disapproval of my groceries—I left the store with my bags.

I jogged over to my truck, silently praising myself for parking close and for not falling. While in the store, the weather had gotten considerably worse, the rain now pounding so hard on my windshield that I could scarcely see.

The black pavement stretched on, the area bathed in complete darkness except for the light of my truck's headlights.

Lauren had provided me with another piece of the puzzle, a very disturbing piece. When people talked poorly of Isabella, I guess they weren't exaggerating. If everything Lauren told me was the truth, then my counterpart bartered sex to Tyler for drugs.

Suddenly feeling sick, I pulled off to the side of the road, removing my keys from the ignition. I took a deep breath, hoping to alleviate the churning in my stomach.

It made it worse.

The keys slipped from my hand to the floor. Bending over, I felt around, wondering how they could have already gone under the seat as I checked there too. My fingertips grazed something stuck to the floor and I curiously yanked on the mysterious plastic object until it came loose.

In the light coming from the headlights, I could see that it was a little plastic baggy.

Filled with white powder.

The guilt I had suppressed in the store was back full force. Shoving my door open, I doubled over and vomited on the gravel below, purging my insides of the sickening feeling.

How could she do this? How could _I _do this?

I keep thinking of us as different people, but the truth is…we're essentially the same person, just with different choices and slightly different circumstances that led to who we are.

Her father…_our_ father, was…_is_, the Chief of Police! How could she turn her back on everything he had ever taught us? How could she defile his memory this way?

The memory of my first drink filled my thoughts, resulting in another round of vomiting.

Was I defiling Charlie's memory by gorging myself on alcohol? Am I no better than her?

I pondered this for a while, soaking the dirt underneath me until it became a thick mud. Disgusted with the illegal substance in my hands, I carefully ripped the baggy open and emptied its contents into the murky dirt and throw up. As a precaution, I kicked some dirt on top, until the mixture was diluted enough that no one would be able to tell what it was.

I took another deep breath, this time maintaining control of my gag reflex and shut the door. Worried I would find something else I wouldn't like, I tentatively searched the floor again, this time producing the keys.

I stuck the key in the ignition and turned.

It stuttered and died.

I tried again.

Again.

And _again._

Nothing.

Pulling the key out, I evaluated my options and realized two things.

I have no clue how to fix this.

The house is five miles away and all the street lights are out.

At least the headlights still work.

The headlights blinked and died.

I groaned.

**A/N: I apologize for how long it took me to send out the previews. That will not happen again. This chapter is short because I ran out of time and I didn't want to rush the rest of Bella's day. Some interesting things will happen in the next chapter. In case you've lost track, it's currently Wednesday in the world of Sweet Relief. One day broken into 3 chapters (Ch. 13, 14, & 15). Holy smokes. Reviewers get a preview.**

**Lauren is goofy. "You trade your body for drugs. You're a crack whore." Makes me laugh. The song choice was ridiculous. I only chose it because that line fit this chapter so perfectly. **

**SWEET RELIEF WAS NOMINATED FOR BEST ANGST IN THE SPARKLE AWARDS. PLEASE SHOW IT SOME LOVE BY VOTING ON OCTOBER 16. DETAILS ON PROFILE.**


	17. Chapter 15: Chicken Noodle Soup

**Disclaimer: Twilight and all of its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The plot is mine.**

**A/N: I would like to apologize for the tardiness of this chapter. This was the first time I didn't make my Sweet Relief chapter deadline. I know I said this chapter would be the end of Wednesday (making the day span three chapters) but there is still more to write.**

Chapter 15: Chicken Noodle Soup for the Soul

Song: "Water" –_Breaking Benjamin_

_My engine's runnin' on dry_

_My head's so fucked up inside_

***

I slammed my head against the steering wheel, again and again, but strangely enough, the headlights didn't come back on. It was times like these that I really wished I had a cell phone, so that I could call for a tow truck.

The steady downpour provided the perfect rhythm to keep me from panicking. Glancing over at my bag of groceries, I could see some of the frozen items releasing moisture, a step closer to defrosting. On a whim I had grabbed a couple TV dinners, thinking it would be better to increase my calorie intake if I didn't want to become ill.

There used to be a time in my life where I would never pass over making a fresh meal for a processed frozen one. Had I still harbored a love of cooking, I would have made my own dinner. After my last birthday, I lost all of the joy I found in life. I continued working in the kitchen only for Charlie's benefit, but without him, I couldn't find a reason to continue.

Sighing heavily, I opened my door and walked around to the front where I proceeded to kick the front end of my truck. Why is it that when objects break, people tend to resort to violence?

Leaning against the side, my clothes already soaked, I wondered why I was here.

Why—at my final moments of life—was I sent here? Was this meant to be my second chance? Was I here to learn something? Learn the value of human life?

I chuckled to myself at that thought. This world and the people in it—they have a darker quality about them. Sex, drugs, and lies—a stark contrast to the quiet Forks I came from. Of course, when I think of it as quiet, I'm thinking of how it was in the absence of vampires.

Staring off into the dark and rainy abyss of nothing—the moonlight was shielded by all of the clouds—I wondered whether Rosalie would hear me if I called her name.

"Rosalie," I whispered into the darkness.

I was never a fan of the rain, but somehow, standing out here at the drops pelted through my clothing, it felt as if some of the scum was being washed away. The kind of scum that you can't just rinse off with some soap and a washcloth in the shower. The kind that coats your skin forever.

It felt liberating in a way.

It didn't matter how I had entered this world, all that mattered was that I was being given a second chance.

Edward and I may not be as close as we once were, but at least he was here. At least I could see him and be near him. I wouldn't have to worry about forgetting him.

Feeling a little cold, I climbed back into my truck. Although I hadn't truly thought Rosalie would appear when I said her name, I couldn't deny my disappointment. Would I really have to spend the night in here?

As if that last thought were a cue, a bright light illuminated the inside of my truck. I squinted my eyes, feeling a mixture of hope and apprehension as the lights stopped shifting. A moment later it was gone, the previous intensity leaving little black dots across my vision. I heard a car door shut as I waited with bated breath for the owner to approach.

A pale finger tapped on my window, their form blurred by the rain and cloaked in a large black coat. My drenched hair smacked against my face as I manually unrolled the window, allowing the rain entrance.

"It appears I was correct in my prognosis…"

His face was cast in partial shadow, the overcast weather accentuating the purple bruises beneath his eyes.

"What do you mean?"

He patted the top of the truck with an open palm. "I told you she wouldn't live through the night."

I grimaced, realizing that until I could take it to a mechanic, I would be stuck walking to school.

"Need a lift?" he asked.

Staring out the blackened windshield, I considered my options.

"I wouldn't want to put you out…"

Edward bent his head in a diagonal motion that put his face an inch from mine. I think I stopped breathing.

"Besides," he whispered, his lips ghosting my left temple, "you wouldn't want those to melt."

"Hmm?" I asked, completely thrown off by how close he was.

He grinned widely and nodded at the passenger seat. "Your groceries."

I broke slanted eye contact to follow his gaze. Now I definitely didn't regret buying those TV dinners.

"Come on," he urged, leaning back and opening the door in one fluid motion. "Unless you would rather stay out here till morning?"

I cringed away from the image of frostbitten toes and grabbed my bags.

After placing my groceries in the trunk and buckling up, I wrapped my arms around my middle and tried to increase my warmth. To my surprise, all of the vents were already shifted toward me. Had he known he would be picking up a stranded girl on the side of the road tonight?

"How long were you out in the rain?" he asked.

"A little while."

"Were you trying to catch a cold?" he muttered in disapproval.

"No…" I answered, sheepishly. "The rain was just kind of…soothing."

"Mmm."

"I know that probably didn't make any sense…"

"No, I actually feel the same way. It's nature's way of cleansing itself. Washes away the sins and such."

I glanced over at him, wishing I could somehow get into his head. It seems that with every word, I like him even more.

"Rainwater isn't a very good cleanser for hair. I'm sure I look like a drowned rat."

"I disagree. I like it when a girl's wet."

Whether he meant it that way or not, the dirty connotations of that statement made me blush more fiercely than I ever had before. Facing forward, I pretended to be interested in the pavement. I couldn't resist glancing at him out of the corner of my eye. His crooked grin looked almost devilish in this lack of lighting.

Despite my protests, he carried in all of my groceries without any aid from me. Leaning against the kitchen counter, I watched him put everything away and pause to stare at each item for a moment before doing so. I opened my mouth to ask him what he was doing, but he spoke first.

"Quite the selection. Don't you eat anything that isn't processed?"

I shrugged, although he probably couldn't see it because his back was turned.

"Who did you purchase this food for anyway? A bird? That is the only creature I can think of that would ever reach a full stomach after eating these miniscule portions." He paused, eyeing a can of chicken noodle soup. "There's a difference between dieting and starvation."

"Are you almost through with commenting on my meal choices?" I asked, uncomfortable with the current conversation.

He looked at me, abandoning his sorting of my groceries. He rubbed his chin in thought before taking a couple steps toward me. I was leaning heavily on the counter now, as he stood before me, scrutinizing my appearance. I released an involuntary shiver.

"You're cold. You need to change," he announced decisively.

"I'm fine."

He raised an eyebrow at me in amusement. "Now why would someone who is clearly soaked to the bone and so cold their lips are turning blue, refuse the opportunity to change into a pair of warm dry clothes?"

He glanced down my form, eliciting a blush from me. "Ah. You're worried I'll peek while you're changing."

"What? No! I—"

"I assure you I will not peek. In fact, I will stay down here while you go change upstairs."

Rubbing my burning cheeks, I wondered why no matter how cold I was they still remained such a bright red. Not knowing what else to say without embarrassing myself, I agreed.

After insuring the door was shut, I quickly stripped off my soaked clothes. I changed into one of the underwear sets I found in the top dresser drawer, blushing profusely as I did so. Isabella had a…_disturbing_ selection of underwear. I had wasted countless minutes deciphering how to wear some of these and came very close to going without. I really needed to buy some new clothes because wearing my counterpart's was just too embarrassing.

Holding a pair of jeans in one hand and a pair of pajama pants in the other, I debated which to wear. A sudden knock at the door made me jump.

"Yes?"

"Bella, I apologize for disturbing you, but I wanted to know what kind of soup you would like?"

I stared at the door in confusion. "Soup?"

I heard him chuckle lightly on the other side. "Yes, soup. It's a form of sustenance, usually involving a vegetable or a variety of vegetables and broth."

Rolling my eyes, I slipped on a pair of pajama pants.

"You don't need to do that…"

"Of course I do. What kind of person would I be if I left without ensuring you are taken care of?"

So that's why he's here. He just wants to make sure I'm okay because he's a caring person. Nothing more.

"Right," I sighed.

"What would you like?"

"Chicken noodle."

…

I took the stairs one step at a time, prolonging my entrance. This night was beginning to feel surreal—discovering my counterpart's coke problem before sitting down to a dinner a vampire had prepared. I had witnessed enough of Edward's mood swings to know how easily they could be triggered, but this was just getting ridiculous.

Apprehension and tension clogged the air as I entered the kitchen to find Edward stirring the contents of a pot on the stove with a large wooden spoon.

He spoke after a quick glance at me. "It will be ready in a moment. Why don't you go sit down?"

I slumped into a chair quietly, feeling like a child and wondering what the purpose of all this could be. It wasn't as if Edward would be eating.

Could he tell that I had been skipping meals? Was he merely trying to ensure I ate tonight?

My lack of appetite was something that couldn't really be helped. Deep down I know it's all psychological and that the problem doesn't truly lie with how pointless I find eating.

Carrying a large bowl of soup, Edward joined me at the table. He placed it in front of me and offered a spoon which I slowly took. I stirred the contents for a moment, trying to organize my thoughts.

"Is something wrong?" he asked cautiously.

I looked up to find him staring at me expectantly.

"Nothing," I answered a little too quickly, warranting a scoff from him in return.

"Okay well don't take this the wrong way," I began, "but why are you here?"

"I told you—"

I cut him off. "I know you want to make sure I'm okay and everything. I'm just a little confused about _why_ you care…"

He was clearly offended by my inquiry, but he didn't comment. He seemed to truly be considering my words.

"I realize I have been less than gentlemanly with you and for that, I apologize."

"Why the change?" I asked, gesturing between us.

His eyebrows creased as he gazed intently back at me, like he was trying to solve a rubik's cube. "You seem different."

"Different?" I squeaked, worried he had discovered the truth.

"At first, I thought it was all part of some act—some sort of trick to get something from me. I was convinced you had ulterior motives. I was angry that you would stoop to such levels, and irritated with Rosalie for falling for your game."

"Rosalie?" I wondered. What had she said about me?

"When she mentioned her friendship with you, I voiced my opinions of your bizarre behavior, and she did not take it very well. She actually yelled at me to stop being so judgmental."

"Rosalie yelled at you on my behalf?" I asked, unable to imagine this Rosalie doing such a thing.

"I see you've noticed her subdued nature?"

I nodded, feeling terrible to do so, but knowing there was no way I could truthfully disagree.

"She told me to give you a chance and said I would see for myself what a wonderful person you are."

I blushed at the indirect compliment. "So did you?" I asked, realizing a second late how my question could sound. I may have found that comment flattering, but I didn't agree with it. I hurriedly explained, feeling my cheeks become warmer at Edward's smirk. "Decide to give me a chance, I mean."

"Isn't my choice rather obvious?" he laughed.

"Nothing about you is obvious," I mumbled.

"The same could be said of you."

We were quiet for a while, each of us thinking about what the other had said. There were so many questions I wanted to ask, but I didn't know how to without giving anything away. He had admitted to noticing a difference in my behavior, but I was beginning to feel more and more certain he didn't know the truth.

"You might want to eat that before it gets too cold."

I glanced up at Edward in confusion. He pointed to the bowl and I realized I was still stirring its contents. I quickly brought a spoonful into my mouth, enjoying the taste and how easily it slid down my throat. Edward was wearing a very peculiar expression. Taking another gulp of soup snapped him out of it and he cleared his throat.

"How is it?" There was a strange edge to his voice that I hadn't ever heard from him.

I hummed in pleasure and finished the bowl rather quickly. He was running his fingers through his hair, making it more unruly than the weather had. Was he…nervous?

Sliding out of my chair, I picked up my dirty dishes to deposit them in the sink. Edward must have had different ideas because he swiftly snatched them from my hands.

"How long are you going to do that?" I asked in mock irritation.

He grinned. "Forever, Bella. Forever."

**A/N: So…I have a twitter. Feel free to follow me. I talk about Sweet Relief sometimes. My username on twitter is the same as on here. Reviewers get a preview.**

**Did the line: **_**"I disagree. I like it when a girl's wet" **_**make you giggle? Well I have an interesting story about what happened after I wrote that line… I was sitting in one of the campus eating areas, trying to make some progress on this chapter while waiting for my next class. I had just finished writing that line and I was so paranoid. I tried to get over it and typed the following line about **_**"dirty connotations"**_** and what happened? This guy from one of my classes APPEARED BEHIND ME (I had my iTunes playing at the time and therefore didn't hear him at first) and began to READ WHAT I WAS TYPING. Thank goodness that in my paranoia, I had scrolled up enough to conceal the "wet" line. Still…it made me want to make this story K+**


	18. Chapter 16: Starting Over

**Disclaimer: Twilight and all of its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The plot is mine.**

**A/N: I would like to thank kjoyp for her input on Chapter 15 (sorry I forgot to mention you in my last author's note). I would also like to thank punkfarie for getting this story mentioned in the Midnight Eclipse Newsletter. The movie is called Wristcutters and I really recommend it. Reviewers get a preview.**

Chapter 16: Starting Over

***

He disappeared into the kitchen then and I tried to collect myself. There was something about his presence tonight—a feeling of substantiality. Tonight seemed incredibly important, although I wasn't entirely sure why.

I couldn't deny that even in my confusion, I was a little elated.

Happy thoughts quickly faded away as he reappeared, this time with a look of uncertainty on his face. He was probably tired of my company and trying to think of a way to leave. I know that if I were in his shoes, I would be searching the room for opportunities of escape.

"What's wrong?" he asked suddenly, his uncertainty replaced with concern.

Jolted out of my depressing thoughts, I rushed to answer. "Nothing." I knew the longer I waited, the less likely he was to accept the lie.

He eyed me skeptically, but didn't press. That was something I definitely liked about this Edward. He somehow knew when not to pressure me for answers.

We rocked on our feet almost in unison as if we were walking a tightrope and unsure of which way to lean. This situation was feeling tenser with each passing second and I spared a glance at the television, drawn to our contorted reflection.

"Want to watch a movie?" I blurted out of nowhere, my only thought was to somehow keep him here.

"A movie?" he asked, acting like he hadn't heard me. He's a vampire for goodness sakes. If he can hear the blood flowing through my veins then he most certainly can hear my voice.

Feeling uneasy, I backpedaled. "I mean…if you want. If you wanted to leave, I'd completely understand. It is a school night after all," I babbled.

Wordlessly, he walked passed me and my shoulders slumped in disappointment as he came closer to the door. I had resigned myself to his departure and possibly a night of drinking, when he suddenly turned toward a large bookcase.

I followed his path, peeking over his shoulder curiously. Scanning a few titles, I recognized some movies I had heard about back in school, when Jessica would prattle on about her favorite male actors and gush about their physique.

The selection made me blush as I realized Edward would not only think I watched them, but that I enjoyed them enough to find it necessary to purchase them. His brows were furrowed as he removed one and I prayed his choice wouldn't be some embarrassing barely appropriate flick featuring tasteless nudity.

"There seems to be a consistent theme among all of these," he murmured, turning over the DVD in his hands and scanning the writing on the back. "Except…this one."

I took the movie from his outstretched hand, reading the back as he had. This wasn't something I had ever heard of. It took me a couple of minutes to locate the remote for the DVD player—you couldn't operate it otherwise—which warranted a few sarcastic comments from Edward. Each one was delivered in a friendly nature, so I didn't mind it.

After dimming the lights, I joined him on the couch, taking the opposite end from him.

Sitting on the couch with my legs tucked underneath me, I attempted to keep my gaze glued to the movie playing on the television. This task was almost impossible with Edward sitting a mere cushion away. This felt reminiscent of another time, when Edward and I were bundled up on the sofa watching Romeo and Juliet.

I sighed in irritation, wondering why the past couldn't just stay there. The constant drudging up of bittersweet memories was taking a toll.

"Dislike the movie?"

"What?"

He tilted his head toward the screen and my gaze drifted over to a police officer removing his cap to reveal a large gaping bullet wound protruding out of the top of his skull.

"No, I was just thinking about something." At this point, I kind of wished I had paid closer attention to the story, finding the walking dead strangely intriguing. Of course, I had always found a certain kind of walking dead interesting, so I suppose it wasn't too strange in that sense…

"Bella?"

I glanced over to see Edward facing me with his legs crossed on the couch cushion. I mirrored his position, nodding for him to continue.

"I would like to start over."

"You weren't paying attention either?" I asked in confusion. Had he only pretended to focus on the television like I had?

"Paying attention to what?"

"The movie…"

"No, I wasn't referring to the movie," he laughed, but it quickly faded into a smirk. "Wait, if you weren't watching the movie, then in what _did_ your attention lie?"

I blushed deeply. By his expression, it seemed like he already knew…

"Well?" he asked, leaning forward slightly on his arms with his hands pressed into the cushion.

I stared at the phantom veins running up his arm. "Umm…" I mumbled, watching as they were coming closer.

"Bella."

I looked up out of reflex, realizing a moment later that I shouldn't have. His eyes were fixated on mine and I found myself unable to move, like a mouse pinned by the hypnotic gaze of a snake. In my peripherals, I could see his hand rise and I held my breath as it hovered above my cheek.

Slowly, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, before trailing his hand down my arm. When he reached my hand he stopped and grasped my palm. I released a breath at the contact.

"I want us to start over. I want to forget about the past—past behavior, past words. I want a fresh start."

I stared at him. There were so many thoughts running through my head. A part of me was squealing like a thirteen year old girl, but the other was weary and terrified over what could happen if we became too close.

Wasn't this what I wanted though? A fresh start? Why did I suddenly feel this way, now that he was offering me what I wanted?

_You just can't be happy, can you?_ I thought bitterly. This was what I wanted. I wanted to start anew…I wanted a second chance.

So when Edward looked at me in question with undoubtedly sincere eyes, I pushed that irrational fear down deep inside, and nodded. "Okay."

…

The movie was over now and we were each glancing around the room awkwardly. I was very aware of the fact that my hand was still in his, and had been for the rest of the movie. The credits were almost done and I was at a complete loss over what to say to keep him from leaving.

"It's getting pretty late."

Sighing, I carefully extracted my hand and stood. As much as I wanted to stay seated beside him and as much as it hurt to remove my hand…his comment had made his wish to leave quite clear. I couldn't be greedy with him. I didn't want to drive him away like I had driven _him_ away.

Contrary to what I expected—which was Edward to jump up and swiftly exit through the door—he didn't stand, but sunk deeper into the cushions. He was now looking up at the ceiling with a finger pressed to his chin.

"I wonder if my parents have noticed I'm missing yet..." He was now tapping his chin. "If they had, I'm sure they would have called by now—which they haven't."

The ceiling seemed to have lost his interest because now he was staring at me. Unsure of how to respond, I opted for silence.

"They must already be asleep. I imagine they would be quite angry if I returned at such a late hour…"

Clamping my mouth shut, I fought to keep a giggle from bursting forth. Curious of the time, I glanced at the clock hanging on the wall, but none of the hands were moving. How long had it been broken?

"What to do, what to do…"

The way he was contemplating his options was so very cute, I had the urge to kiss him. Now although I almost always had this urge, there was something about his current behavior that was making it downright impossible to resist. Luckily, I'm too much of a coward to make a move.

"Would you like to stay here?" I asked quietly, hoping I wasn't mistaken in his intentions and making an idiot out of myself.

Edward grinned widely, but reined it in after a moment. "I would love to, unless my presence will make you uncomfortable?"

I thought about that for a second. Now that I had decided to suppress my fear, a second was all it took.

"Not at all." That was kind of a lie, but not really. He made me uncomfortable, but not in the way in which he was referring…

"Will you be okay using the couch?" I asked. I almost offered my bed, but thought better of it. He wasn't going to be sleeping anyway.

_He wasn't going to be sleeping._

Oh no.

I was beginning to panic, wondering what he would do all night. I wasn't worried about my safety—not in the slightest—but I was feeling a little regret for asking him to stay. What if I had a nightmare? He would definitely hear, and then there would be questions.

I grimaced, wishing I didn't have to sleep.

"Sure," he said, the concern obvious in his tone. Feeling the need to escape the scrutiny of his gaze, I climbed the stairs to grab a couple quilts from the linen closet. He wouldn't need them, but I knew I needed to keep up with the facade.

_What if I revealed my secret in my sleep!_

I wasn't sure how much sleep talking I had been doing lately, but with my luck, he would definitely hear something he shouldn't.

_Maybe he should._ A rogue thought filtered in—it seemed to have originated from the same place as the fear.

I slammed the doors closed, silencing that thought. Nothing good would come from him knowing the truth. Things were finally starting to pick up—that is, he wasn't insulting me anymore… Why would I want to ruin that?

Gathering the large quilts tighter in my arms, I descended the stairs to find Edward staring out one of the windows. When he heard my approach, he closed the curtains and turned.

"Are you alright?" he asked as I deposited the contents of my arms onto the couch.

"I'm fine."

He looked at the couch and then back at me. "I can leave if this really makes you uncomfortable."

"After I already brought you these?" I asked, pointing at the blankets in mock irritation. "I think not."

He smiled a little at that and walked around the coffee table to where I was standing. Edward raised his hand and grazed my chin with his thumb.

"Goodnight, Bella," he whispered as my eyes slid shut.

The soft pressure was gone and I heard the sound of weight on springs. I opened my eyes to find him lying across the couch, facing away from me with the quilts tucked around him.

"Goodnight, Edward," I whispered back before climbing the stairs to my room.

…

I was drifting through the halls, the sounds of unimportant high school chatter absent. They were bare, only the blinking of the florescent lighting above creating a sound in the otherwise silent halls.

"Hello?" I called.

Silence met my silence as I realized I had not actually spoken.

"Hello?" I tried again, hearing nothing once more. I swallowed, feeling no blockage—no reason for my lack of voice.

I was outside the door to the Chemistry room now, so I pulled it open and entered.

Instead of lab tables and equipment, I found a vast field, covered in weeds and vertical stone slabs. Upon further investigation, I realized what the stone slabs were.

Gravestones.

I walked among them, reading names, but not registering their faces.

_Charlie Swan_, I thought, feeling nothing as I continued.

Suddenly, without any conscious move to, I stopped. Looking down at the blurry face of the stone, I felt a slight turning in my stomach. I kneeled upon the dirt before it, trying to get a closer look.

A sound behind me captured my attention and I twisted around to see what it was.

Edward stood to my left, his emerald and ruby eyes staring back at me.

"Bella." I looked to my right and saw another Edward about ten feet away from the other, staring at me with golden eyes.

"Bella," the one to the left repeated.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

"I don't want you," the one on the right said.

"I don't want you," repeated the one on the left.

"You are fragile."

"You are fragile."

"You are weak."

"You are weak."

You are human."

"You are human."

"You are nothing."

"You are nothing."

I dug my nails into the dirt at their words, but the earth below me remained undisturbed.

"Nothing."

"Nothing."

Their voices were closer, but I did not dare look up.

"Look," they chanted in unison for the first time.

I twisted back around to stare at the gravestone once more. I reached to touch the carved letters, but my hand fell through. I was incorporeal.

Now able to see, I read the name aloud despite the absolute silence of my voice.

_Bella Swan._

"Nothing," they chanted.

My body lurched forward and I screamed, loud and full of pain. I flinched back from the cold nipping at my skin, hearing the word "nothing" being chanted over and over in my head.

"Bella?" I tensed at the velvet voice filled with worry.

"Edward?" I croaked through labored breathing and a throat that had yielded far too many screams.

"Shhh, Bella. It's okay. I'm here now," he soothed, rubbing my back through my shirt. As I relaxed against him, I shivered against the fear, the emotion, but not from the cold as I think he suspected when he moved his hand to press through the blankets instead.

He held me in his arms, never ceasing his movements until my breathing had evened and my shivering had stopped. His leg swung over the side as he made to leave. In a panic, I clutched his forearm tightly and he froze.

"Please," I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Please don't leave me."

Edward brushed his fingers through my hair, untangling a few nightmare induced knots along the way. He slid our bodies downward; until we were both horizontal and our heads were resting on one of my pillows. He caressed my hand tenderly and I released my grip on his forearm.

I knew our closeness tonight would have consequences, both for my undecided mind and my aching heart, but how could I concern myself with the negativities of tomorrow?

With Edward's arms wrapped around me so tightly, I almost feel whole.


	19. Chapter 17: The Morning After

**Disclaimer: Twilight and all of its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The plot is mine.**

Chapter 17: The Morning After

"Chocolate" –_Snow Patrol_

_This could be the very minute_

_I'm aware I'm alive_

_All these places feel like home._

***

Last night, I slept with Edward Cullen.

Of course it didn't mean as much to him as it did to me, but I was trying not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Whether it was his soothing words, his intoxicating scent, or his protective embrace, I didn't know, but last night I had slept better than I had in months.

There was something about waking up to the face of someone like him in the morning. If this were a daily occurrence, I could see myself easily becoming a morning person.

I pushed down those thoughts, realizing how hopeful and unlikely they sounded. This was a one time thing and just because he stayed with me the whole night, didn't mean it would ever happen again.

"Good morning," he said, shifting slightly so that his face was buried a bit in my hair. I caught myself smiling at the motion, once more reading too much into his actions.

"Morning," I mumbled in return. I rolled onto my side so that we were facing each other, my body screaming in protest as the form against my back was replaced with air. It almost hurt to create space between us, but I knew it had to be done. If not for the sake of what is appropriate, then definitely my sanity.

He was grinning down at me and my eyes widened when I realized why.

"What did I say?" I asked in horror.

"Lots of things," he answered cheekily.

Hiding my face in my hands, I mumbled, "Tell me."

He easily pried my hands from my face, but didn't release them. He opened his mouth to speak, but seemed to hesitate. I was getting more worried by the second.

"You were…mumbling about Charlie," he finally said with something akin to pity in his eyes.

I grimaced, but nodded anyway. I couldn't even remember dreaming last night, so I had no clue what he might have heard. That twist I felt at the thought of Charlie had returned, and I realized I would probably not be able to eat today because of it.

Edward squeezed my hands lightly before I sat up, stretching my arms above my head. The familiar crack resonated in the air and when I looked back at Edward, he was staring. I must look hideous…

"I should get ready."

He looked at the floor. "Okay. I'll get dressed downstairs. I think I have a spare set of clothes in the trunk of my car."

Without another word, he left the room and I heard the front door shut several moments later. As I was rifling through my closet searching for something suitable for today, I thought of the way Edward was looking at me when I woke up. I stopped on a green sweater, remembering the shade of his eyes. I imagined a leafy green mint cream with a sprinkle of cinnamon.

My stomach growled in response, hungering for something as sweet as Edward had been last night.

Interesting how I felt sick when I thought of food, but when I thought of candy, I felt ravenous…

I gathered my clothes in my hands and entered the bathroom. I wondered what he would do while I showered. The image of a nude Edward downstairs may have also crossed my mind…

…

He drove us to school, refusing to even acknowledge the idea of my walking while he rode in his Volvo. Despite the lack of a shower—unless he ran home and showered while I was getting ready—didn't change the effect he had on me. In fact if I were being quite honest, he looked even better.

As we pulled into the school's parking lot, I braced myself for the onslaught of comments and stares. Edward, noticing my discomfort, grasped my hand which unsurprisingly calmed me down.

It's interesting how life can seem worth living with the right person at your side. The issues that constantly dominate your every thought fade from awareness. Well, not really. They're still there and you notice them, but somehow they have ceased to matter.

All the whispers and the stares and in one case—the pointing—cease to matter.

Because how can any of those things bother you when you're walking alongside Edward Cullen?

I stopped us in front on my English class. "Well, this is me."

Edward was glaring into the room, but as I turned around to see what was bothering him, he spoke.

"Till lunch then?" He lifted my hand and placed a feather light kiss on the back of it. Before I knew it, his back was disappearing around the corner.

I entered my class in a daze, still feeling the effects of Edward's lips on my skin as I sat down.

"How long do you think all that is going to last?"

I blinked my eyes, honestly not seeing Eric sitting there until he spoke. "What?"

"You two," Eric answered, gesturing behind him where Edward had walked.

"There's nothing going on between us."

"Right," Eric laughed, but it wasn't a happy sound. "Well, whatever is going on, won't last long anyway."

"And why is that?" I asked through gritted teeth. We weren't together, but what gave him the right to say something like that?

"He'll leave you—like everyone does—and you'll be begging for a fix. And I wonder who you'll call when that happens?" he sneered.

"Mr. Yorkie and Miss Swan?" I looked up at the teacher. "Is there something you would like to share with the class?" I shook my head as Eric turned around. "Well then why don't you two join the class?"

I nodded, staring down at my hands. I don't think my gaze wavered once until the bell rang.

…

"Hi Bella," Rosalie smiled widely as I walked into Calculus. My mood lifted a bit at the sight of her. I shouldn't let Eric's words get to me. What did he know anyway?

"Hey, Rosalie."

"How has your day been going so far?"

"Alright…"

She quirked an eyebrow at me. "Just alright?"

I tried to fight the upward tug on my lips as I recalled everything before English, but quickly failed. "Okay, it's going wonderfully," I admitted with a grin. I touched my mouth, marveling at the appearance of a real smile after all this time.

"Happiness suits you well, Bella Swan."

I giggled in return, distracted for a moment by the sound.

"Ugh. I could throw up." I glanced at Angela, noticing her for the first time.

"Isn't that what got you into this mess in the first place?" I blurted.

Angela was surprised by my comment too, but quickly masked that with disdain. "What was that _Izzy_?"

"You upchucked your heart and you've been a cold heartless bitch ever since."

She gaped at me with wide eyes and I'm pretty sure my expression matched hers.

"Bella!" Rosalie shouted. I turned around in alarm, already feeling sheepish over what I had said. She surprised me by extending her hand in the air. "High five!"

I slapped mine against hers, laughing despite the sting it caused. Angela huffed and cast us a glare as she away to face the front of the classroom.

Despite the momentary lapse in my good day, I was still in a great mood. The thoughts of death were becoming much less frequent and I almost felt normal. Normal because I didn't think it was common for people to contemplate ending their lives all the time. Normal because I almost felt okay.

…

"So we're still on for that shopping trip on Saturday, right?" Jessica asked as we exited the Spanish room.

"R-What?" I questioned as she stared at something behind me in shock. Before I even considered checking to see what it was, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

"Hello," his tone was jovial.

"I'll see you in Gym," Jessica squeaked before scurrying off.

"Hi."

"Would you like to accompany me to lunch?" he asked. I tried to ignore some of the people gawking at our exchange.

"I don't know…"

"Please?" he asked, in one of the most heartbreaking expressions I had ever seen.

Gazing into his disappointed face made it impossible to refuse anything he asked of me. He had more control over me than he probably knew. Or maybe he did and this was just a sick game he was playing?

Sighing in defeat, I agreed to sit with him at lunch. I would love to spend time with him, however brief. The problem was it would be hard to fool a table full of watchful eyes into believing I had actually swallowed portions of the slop in front of me. Not to mention that it wouldn't be just Edward and I.

Rosalie and Jasper didn't act like they were too put out by my presence, but I knew Alice probably wouldn't be happy. Then there was Emmett…

What would _he_ be like?

I shuddered, trying not to imagine all of the cruel remarks he might want to say to me.

Edward led us to the cafeteria line and I chanced a look at their table while he grabbed our food. Emmett and Jasper were both smiling as they battled in what appeared to be a very intense game of thumb war. Rosalie was fiddling with Emmett's hair, desperately trying to pin a stray black curl behind his ear. All of the table's occupants looked content, except for the one who was giving me a very deadly glare.

Knowing she would hear, but finding no other option, I turned to Edward. "Thank you for the food, but would you mind if I ate this in the library?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed one of Alice's perfectly tweezed eyebrows shooting up along with one side of her mouth. I couldn't stand having her look at me with such hate and I needed to leave.

"Nonsense. If I let you go off alone, who knows what will happen. You'll either trash this tray of what I assume is meant to pass as food the moment my back is turned—which would be terribly rude since I _did_ pay for it with my hard earned money—or you might run into one of the other overbearing males on this campus," he smirked.

That was one of the longest string of words he has ever said to me without an insult…

He took my gawking expression as victory and pulled on the sleeve of my sweater as he brought us to the table. Everyone ceased their movements to stare at me, but I couldn't find the will to be embarrassed because my eyes were drawn to his thumb and index finger which were still pinching the green fabric.

"Hi Bella!" Jasper beamed with a full blown grin. "What a wonderful day it must be to have you join our table!" I blushed at his enthusiasm.

He seemed so…happy. The way he spoke so lightly and unrestrained was unlike any other time Jasper had spoken.

This really _is_ an alternate universe.

I carefully sat in the chair Edward had pulled out for me and then he slid into his own seat. I was relieved to be sitting between Rosalie and Edward because neither of them looked like they wanted to strangle me.

"Excuse me?" Alice glared in my direction.

"Alice," Edward growled. With a sigh, Alice went back to stirring the soup I knew she would never eat.

Edward placed one of the trays he had purchased in front of me with his crooked grin.

I turned to jelly at the spot.

"Bella, I would like you to meet Emmett," Rosalie squeezed his hand in obvious reassurance.

Why did he need reassurance? I was the one about to face-off with a huge grizzly bear. Of course Emmett hadn't ever bothered me before, but _this_ Emmett was a complete mystery. What if he hated me as much as Alice?

"Hi, my name is Bella," I announced stupidly, warranting a snort from Alice. He must have already known who I was, but it was somewhat of a reflex to meeting a new person. I waited for one of his boisterous laughs, but it never came. He just smiled softly at me and waved. If I wasn't so shocked, it would have been cute.

We stared at each other for a few moments in curiosity. This was the quietest I had ever seen Emmett. He always had something to say…

"Emmett is mute," Rosalie explained, squeezing his hand again.

With my mouth agape, I looked from their joined hands to Emmett. I knew it was rude to openly gawk at him, but I couldn't help myself. A world where Emmett couldn't speak? Couldn't make sarcastic and suggestive jokes?

Maybe the Earth is flat.

Appearing unbothered by my stare, he flashed me a wide toothy grin with dimples. I blushed, closing my mouth and diverting my gaze to my untouched tray of food. The table erupted in a chorus of laughter—well most of the table. Rosalie was giggling, Emmett was shaking silently in laughter, Jasper was chuckling, and Alice was glaring. Then there was Edward.

Although he looked confused, he was smiling down at me and he looked so amazing in that moment.

Through all of the tears and the hurtful words I had almost forgotten how wonderful his crooked grin was. Or that little spark his eyes held when his gaze wasn't filled with malice. He tapped my tray, breaking me out of my thoughts.

"Are you going to eat that?"

"Why, do you want it?" I smirked, already knowing his answer.

Edward swallowed nervously, "I wouldn't want you to become malnourished."

"A growing boy needs a lot of food," I countered. Rosalie gave me this look while Jasper just whistled and stared at the ceiling.

"Thank you for your concern, but I am quite satisfied."

A shiver ran down my spine as he grinned dangerously at me. That is exactly what being around him was: dangerous. Without his diet on animal blood, how was he able to resist mine? My blood calls to him more than any other…

Unless _this_ Edward was different in that way too.

Frowning at the thought, I popped one of the pepperonis off of my slice of pizza into my mouth. Part of Edward's attraction to me had always been the scent of my blood, but if I just smelled as plain as I look to _this _Edward, then what did I have to offer?

I could feel their eyes on me as I took a bite of pizza. The melted cheese didn't want to separate with the rest of the piece in my mouth, so I used my tongue to wind around the strand of cheese and pull it in. I'm sure my manners were sorely lacking with the way I was eating.

My stomach was still churning from the thoughts of Charlie earlier, but I needed this distraction. The cheese slid down my throat and luckily didn't elicit any gagging. Finally acknowledging their stares, I looked up into Edward's eyes. He wore a peculiar expression and was about to say something when Alice cut in.

"Oh please," she said, slamming her spoon down on the table. I jumped at the clang of metal. "What is she doing here?" she asked Edward.

"Calm down Alice," Jasper rubbed her arms and a blanket of calm wrapped around me. I shot Jasper a grateful look, unfortunately Alice caught that and her gaze became even angrier.

"Who do you think you are?" she was glaring at me once more.

"Alice, be quiet," Edward growled.

"Do you honestly think anyone at this table wants you here? They are only being polite and hoping you will take the hint, but clearly all of your extra curricular activities have eliminated too many of your limited brain cells to catch on. Leave this table. You are _not_ welcome here."

The table fell silent and I realized that I now knew the answer to that question. Did anyone want me here? Clearly not.

I stood up slowly, trying not to jostle the table and further their amusement.

"Excuse me," I mumbled quietly, knowing they would hear me.

Abandoning my partially eaten slice of pizza, I ran from the cafeteria, ignoring Rosalie's calls. My eyes were beginning to water, but I promised myself I wouldn't let them see me cry again. Hiding away in the bathroom to avoid the stares of my classmates, I locked myself in one of the stalls. Taking long and deep breaths, I willed the tears away. No good would come out of behaving like a baby.

_This wasn't Alice. This wasn't my Alice. Her words weren't directed at me._

Those were the words I chose to repeat to help war against my emotions. It kept the tears at bay, but it didn't extinguish the pain in my chest. The whole situation was similar to taking the blame for someone. No matter whose fault it truly was, the disappointing words still hurt. Even when you know you did nothing wrong.

That was the difference though. Although I wasn't responsible for whatever Isabella had done to piss off Alice so much, I did deserve the blame for other things—worse things.

The door to the bathroom opened so I flushed the toilet, pretending to have been using the facilities for their purpose and not for a means to suppress my emotional shortcomings. When I opened the stall, I wasn't really surprised to see Rosalie standing there, waiting. For some reason she just kept coming back…I guess pity will do that to a person.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I mumbled, washing my hands to give myself something to do and because I was pretending to have just gotten out of the bathroom. I knew acting was futile, since Rosalie could probably hear that I hadn't used it. But again, it gave me something to do—something else to focus on.

"Alice didn't mean any of that. We loved having you there."

Not having the strength to argue, I just nodded. Alice had meant every word, Jasper was just being polite, Rosalie was kind, and Emmett couldn't voice his true thoughts of me. Then there was Edward.

He felt guilty, worried, or perhaps responsible for what Tyler had done earlier this week. I had no way of knowing if any of those theories were true, but I knew he didn't want me around. Maybe he noticed how little I had been eating and wanted to make sure I did. It would explain the soup last night and the invitation to lunch today. Who knows?

"I'll see you later then I guess," she muttered before leaving.

Hearing the bell ring for the end of lunch, I groaned and pressed my forehead to the mirror. After the next bell blared through the walls, I decided I had waited long enough.

Time to face the music.

Fearful of what Edward would have to say to me today, I hesitantly went to Chemistry. With everything that happened at lunch, there was no telling what his mood would be like. True, he had been nicer to me lately and had even showed me something akin to affection, but how long would that last? Eventually he would find me a waste of time and revert back to firing off the comments that made my chest burn.

The moment of truth…

The moment I walked through the doorway, my eyes met his.

He was the oasis in the desert, glistening with pure desire and need. I was the traveler wading through hot sand under a scorching sun while the heat burned me from the inside out. Scalding my skin and charring my bones. I could feel the sun's flames licking the hollow space in my chest.

Incapable of breathing and left only with the sight of such beauty. Unfortunately, the end result was always the same. The moment my cupped hands dive into the refreshing water, the mirage disappears and my lips taste fiery sand once more.

It was strange and liberating and stifling all at the same time. His presence was taunting me as I sat beside him. The glare I expected to see never came.

"Are you okay?" That seemed to be the question on everybody's mind. Was I that bad at masking my feelings?

"I'm fine."

"Alice really didn't—"

"She did," I cut him off.

"Okay, she may have meant it, but it was out of line for her to _say_ it."

Picking at my fingernails, I mumbled a very unconvincing agreement. He stilled my hands with his, catching my attention.

"The rest of us enjoyed your company, Bella."

We were locked in a stare-down. Edward was trying to convince me of a lie, while I was clinging to the truth. But why was I? Believing the lie would be so much better.

"Okay."

He was shocked and pleased by my answer, but quickly became aggravated when our conversation was interrupted by Mr. Banner.

"Is there something you two would like to share with the class?" I wondered if all teachers had some sort of handbook filled with unoriginal questions to ask students when they were talking during class.

"No." Edward's tone was clipped, contrasting the way he was speaking moments ago. I looked at him curiously, but he was glaring at Mr. Banner.

"What about you, Miss Swan?" he sneered at me.

I shrunk back and shook my head.

"You have a tongue, don't you Isabella?"

I heard a low growl and darted my gaze over to Edward. His body was tensed and his eyes black as he glared at Mr. Banner.

"No," I finally answered.

"No what, Isabella?"

"No Sir," I said quietly.

Mr. Banner smirked at me. "Good girl," he said before returning to his desk.

"Edward?" I whispered.

"I need a moment," he whispered back through clenched teeth.

After several minutes of waiting patiently, I glanced over at him. He was staring at his book, completely focused on the text. I was about to question his behavior when he shook his head.

I redirected my attention to the lecture, trying not to feel hurt over Edward's dismissal. He was clearly going through something and trying to calm himself down. I needed to stop thinking about myself for a moment and give him some space.

I studied the clock for the rest of the class, seeing the slight hesitation the second hand made every time it reached the notch right before the twelve. Edward hadn't acknowledged my presence since he shook his head. The class ended and I stood to gather my things, debating whether to break the silence that had fallen between us.

Sensing my issue, he rose quietly and walked by, leaving me to follow. We were just outside the door when I heard Mr. Banner's voice.

"I need to speak with you, Miss Swan."

I sighed in irritation before turning to walk back inside. Before I reached the doorway, I felt Edward grab my arm.

"Don't go in there."

I looked into his eyes, shocked by the worry within them. There was also another emotion I could not place. "He just wants to talk to me… It'll be fine."

"Don't go in there," he repeated, pleading this time.

I furrowed my brows, confused by his issue with Mr. Banner speaking to me. "It'll only take a minute," I reasoned.

I tried to move from his grasp, hoping I wouldn't get in trouble for making Mr. Banner wait. Edward released my arm slowly, seeming to let his fingers drag across my flesh. I felt my heartbeat speed up as I took a step back.

"I'll be right back," I called over my shoulder.

**A/N: Reviewers get a preview. Assuming 11 people will review this chapter, we're about to reach 500. I feel the need to ask... Where did you hear about this story?**


	20. Chapter 18: Am I Okay?

**Disclaimer: Twilight and all of its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The plot is mine.**

**A/N: Sorry for being all MIA lately. The holidays, my birthday, school, work, etc. This chapter is short because it was supposed to be part of the last and I feel no need to write pointless filler. Reviewers get a preview, as always. **

Chapter 18: Am I Okay?

"Chocolate" –_Snow Patrol_

_A simple mistake starts the hardest time_

_I promise I'll do anything you ask…this time._

***

When I entered the Chemistry classroom, I glanced around and silently hoped I wouldn't be in much trouble. Mr. Banner had behaved oddly today, but despite his attitude, I had done what he asked. I had a feeling what he wanted to speak to me about had more to do with my recent work output and not how I had acted today.

"Shut the door, Miss Swan."

I complied, realizing that this discussion would probably take a while if he felt the need to seclude us in his classroom—to keep us from prying eyes. I stood in front of his desk awkwardly, unsure of how to explain my lack of attention.

_The reason I am so unfocused, Mr. Banner? Well you see, I come from an alternate universe where Edward and I used to be together, but he left me a couple months ago because I wasn't worthy of him. I'm so distracted in this class because I sit next to the Edward from this universe and his presence is the only thing keeping me from ending my life._

"Have a seat," he gestured to the chair beside his and I reluctantly sat down.

He slumped down in his chair, leaning back leisurely. I stiffened a bit at his gaze, a strange uncomfortable feeling making my skin prickle.

"You haven't been keeping up with you're appointments, Isabella."

I furrowed my brows. Were there a series of scheduled academic appointments that I had been missing? That Rosalie had neglected to mention?

I wouldn't blame Rosalie—it wasn't her job to inform me about every facet of Isabella's life. It made me wonder though—how many other things was I missing?

"Sorry?" I said doubtfully.

He mumbled something then that I couldn't quite make out.

"You will need to make up for the time you missed."

"Sure, anything," I replied quickly, wanting to get this over with.

If I could just get a couple extra credit assignments, I could be on my way. I didn't want to be late to Gym because Mrs. Hall would definitely torture me for the tardy. There was also something about this Mr. Banner that I found unsettling. Edward seemed really worried about me talking with him in private, and I didn't think it had anything to do with the status of my grade point average.

I was broken out of my reverie by the feeling of pressure on my leg. I looked down in shock as Mr. Banner's hand ran up my thigh. The chalky and slightly wrinkled hand looked alien as it slid across the denim of my jeans. Out of pure instinct, I swatted his hand away.

"What are you doing?" I asked urgently.

"You said _anything_," he smiled—his chapped misshapen lips curling back over his coffee-stained teeth.

Another pair of foreign hands invading my personal space. When Tyler had cornered me earlier this week, I froze. Maybe it was the stress…or maybe it was my recent time with Edward, but for whatever reason, I just snapped.

Mr. Banner's hand was making its trek for my chest this time when I slapped him across the face. He grabbed my upper arm roughly, digging his fingers so thoroughly into my skin that I was certain there would be indentations.

He shook me harshly. "_We have a deal, Isabella. Or have you forgotten?_"

I stared up at him, frightened beyond belief.

What was the deal? What could Isabella have possibly been trading her body to Mr. Banner for? More drugs?

"What's going on here?"

Rosalie was standing rigidly in the doorway, her fists clenched and her jaw tense. She reminded me of the old Rosalie in the ferocity of her posture.

At the sound of her voice, Mr. Banner released me, albeit reluctantly. Despite his lack of appropriateness, he must have known not to cross her.

"Let's go, Bella," she ground out, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Mr. Banner just turned to his supply cabinet, arranging the items within dully as if we weren't even there. Rosalie grabbed my hand and led me out of the room wordlessly. She remained silent as she guided me into her car and pulled out of the parking lot.

"Did she have _any_ pride?" I asked through gritted teeth.

"I'm really sorry, Bella. I should have known. I should have warned you—"

"I don't blame you, Rosalie."

"Still," she sighed.

"Tyler…Mr. Banner…who else was she trading favors with? How many others are going to come to me looking for a good time?"

"No one."

We were silent the rest of the drive to my house. I knew ditching Gym would have consequences, but at this point, I had too many things on my mind to care about that yet. Rosalie offered to stay with me and although I wanted to be alone, I took her up on that.

I tried to sort out my thoughts—figure out what I could and would do about my situation. There were so many details about this life that I didn't know, memories I didn't have. It was like trying to find my way in the dark.

One thing that kept bothering me was the way Edward had acted during and after class. He had practically begged me not to go in there and I had to wonder whether he knew what Mr. Banner was planning. After all, there isn't much you could keep hidden from a mind reader.

"Did Edward know?"

"Know what?" Rosalie asked, looking up from her magazine.

"Did he know what Mr. Banner was planning?"

"I don't know… I didn't actually see Edward," she replied apologetically.

"Well, how did you know?"

She closed her magazine and looked me in the eye. "I didn't."

"Then how—"

"I overheard your conversation on my way to class. I could tell by your heartbeats that something was wrong," she explained.

"Thank you—for showing up when you did."

She rubbed my back with a small sad smile. "Are you okay?"

I'm living in the life of a crack whore.

Am I okay?

**A/N: I hope that despite the absence of Sweet Relief updates recently that you'll take a look at some of my newest writing projects:**

**The Voices** (The contest is over, but I'd still love to hear your thoughts)

_When life gives you a slightly crazed angel with a thirst for blood, what do you do? You bury the evidence in the backyard. AU. Rated for violence, gore, and sexual content. My entry for the Mentalward Contest._

**Stained Scarlet** (My entries for Round 2 of the Twilight 25)

_"Hours later the bodies would be moved, the floors cleaned—polished to previous perfection. Memory of that night would fade as the witnesses aged and died." 2__5 unrelated one-shots or drabbles. POVs vary._


	21. Chapter 19: Caving

**Disclaimer: Twilight and all of its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The plot is mine.**

Chapter 19: Caving

"Franklin" –_Paramore_

_So we stand here now and no one knows us at all_

_I won't get used to this_

_I won't get used to being gone._

***

I walked through the halls, clinging to my backpack and scanning the faces around me, measuring their distance, their attention, their threat level. I cringed at sudden movements, shoulders shooting upward in an attempt to brace the impact.

"You're being paranoid," I jumped at the sound of her voice.

"Rosalie," I breathed. "You scared me."

"Worrying like this isn't going to make dealing with it any easier," she pointed out with concern.

"I'm not worrying. I just…don't want to be caught off guard again."

Rosalie smiled in acknowledgement, squeezing my shoulder before heading to her class. After learning what had happened to her, I knew she could comprehend my feelings better than anyone else. I knew she was right and that I was acting ridiculous, but it's one thing to know there's a problem and another to stop it.

Eric didn't pester me about the party again, for which I was grateful. I wanted to concentrate on other things and abandon my worries for a least a little while. I figured I would be safe from Isabella's gentleman callers during my classes.

Diverting my attention worked most of the morning—not even Angela's petty comments were able to distract me. Calculus made a lot more sense when you weren't busy dwelling on your personal issues. Rosalie kept casting me worried glances, but I ignored that too.

History and Spanish didn't go so well. We had finished the latest section earlier than my History teacher anticipated and since we would be starting a new unit on Monday, we were told to use today's class time as a study period.

We had a substitute in Spanish who had no idea what was going on—I didn't even think she knew the language beyond how to say hello—so that class became more free time.

Free time to obsess over the thoughts I was trying to suppress.

Jessica talked excitedly about the impending shopping trip tomorrow, but I was a lot less enthusiastic. She noticed, but didn't pry—something I really liked about her. The fact that Rosalie was coming seemed to intimidate her a little, but I reassured her everything would be fine.

I avoided entering the cafeteria today. Somehow the idea of going through what happened yesterday was less than appealing. Alice's words had struck a chord and I knew it would take some time for me to develop enough courage to face all of them like that again.

I wasn't sure I'd ever be ready.

Hiding deeper in the library with a pack of peanut butter crackers and apple juice—I wasn't hungry, but I knew I needed to eat something—I thought of how strange it was to be living in the life of someone else. It's almost like I'm not even real here…just a place holder.

I began the long walk to Chemistry, wishing it wasn't too late in the year to change classes. I thought about ditching this class too, but I wanted to see Edward and that desire overrode the fear I was feeling at seeing Mr. Banner again.

After watching most of my classmates file into the room, I finally followed. I passed Mr. Banner's desk, sighing in relief when I noticed an old man sitting there instead. I sat next to Edward with a much lighter mood than I had all day.

"Hello," I smiled.

He nodded, but didn't offer a greeting in return. My smile fell at his dismissal, but I tried not to let it get to me. Maybe there was something on his mind and he wanted to be left alone—I could understand that.

This substitute wasn't as unknowledgeable as the one in Spanish, but he gave us the period to relax anyway, claiming that there was no need to worry about school on a Friday. Instead he told stories about his life and his time in the army.

I turned back to Edward, tuning out the old man's tales. He was staring out the window, his hand cradling his chin. I thought about how wonderful these last couple days with him had been, the effort he had expended to make sure I was alright, the way he almost seemed to care, his lips…

"Are you alright?" I leaned over.

"No."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not with you," he glared.

I flinched back, swallowing the hurt. "What did I do?"

"You were born."

"I thought we were friends," I mumbled, although it felt much deeper than that.

He just laughed—teeth poking out behind his parted lips like jagged spikes, the sound a hiss of breath.

"Edward I—"

He cut me off as his fist connected with the tabletop. It was loud and made a barely there dent in the smooth black surface. I stared at it as he leaned toward me, aware of the inquiring eyes around us. His fist remained clenched as his other palm splayed inches from my elbow. His head turned slowly, until we were face to face.

"I'm done," he said, lips curving downward into disgust.

He was out the door before I released my breath, before anyone could ask what was going on, before the substitute could say a word.

I stared at that dent, the way the table had become malleable beneath the force of his fist. I thought about the way it had yielded to his skin, to his flesh, to his bone.

I thought about how many dents were now under my skin, making my heart cave.

I couldn't think about why this had happened. I couldn't hypothesize, or even wonder really. All I could think about was the way he had looked at me. Upper lip shifting slightly upwards, almost making an "M" shape. Bottom lip pushing down. His eyes.

How flat they looked.

I couldn't think of the why or the how, but I knew what he meant. He was done.

With me.

…

I laid in bed, clutching my life preserver in one hand and my sheets in the other. I nursed the bottle and gripped the bedding tighter as the fire deepened in my chest.

Instead of waiting for the numb to come, I decided to take the initiative, to take myself there. I figured if I couldn't feel my legs, I couldn't possibly feel the pain.

As I began to reach my goal, I felt a smile rise to my lips. It wasn't a happy smile by any means—even without a mirror I could just see the disturbing shape my lips were making.

It was one of acknowledgement, one that told me I was close.

I glanced to my doorway and I wasn't even surprised to see Rosalie standing there. I peered over my lump of blankets at her through squinted eyes, raising and tilting my bottle in a "cheers" kind of gesture.

"What are you doing?" she asked, eyeing the bottle in my hand.

I shrugged. That was a stupid question.

"You didn't forget about our plans today, did you?"

I shrugged again.

"Well come on. Get up," she tore the blankets off me easily.

"I'm not going," I finally said, sighing at the cool air on my skin. It was getting really hot under all those blankets.

"Yes you are," she huffed. "I already picked up Jessica."

"Go with her," I smiled, feeling the sickly sweet press against my lips like vomit.

"What are you doing?" she asked again, this time in accusation.

I answered her by tipping my glass up and swallowing a generous amount of…whatever I was drinking. She was by my side in a flash, stealing my bottle before I could blink.

"What do you want?" I glared.

I hadn't reached it yet. I wasn't numb. I needed to be numb.

"I want you to get up. I want you to stop feeling sorry for yourself."

I hid my head beneath my pillow, expecting the calm docile Rosalie and not ready to handle the forceful one.

She yanked that away too.

"Bella—"

"I'm done," I repeated his words—allowing them to gain power, to cultivate the darkness in my mind, in my chest. I let the hurt wash over me because on the brink of numb, I was incredibly vulnerable and I couldn't ignore how I was feeling.

"Sincere," she whispered and I knew she was confirming my statement.

I heard her sigh, expelling all that nerve in that one breath as she sat on the edge of my bed.

"Bella, you have to know how it looked—"

"I know," I snapped.

"Well," she stretched out the word. "If you would just _tell_ him, this would all be fixed," she smiled.

She smiled. She smiled like that was the answer to all.

I couldn't tell her my fears. I couldn't tell her why I was unable to tell him the truth.

Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe I was being irrational, but I couldn't get over that feeling deep in my stomach that if he knew the truth, everything would end. And although whatever we were building up to was over and he was _done_, I still couldn't bare him knowing.

The look of disgust I could almost handle, but I didn't think I'd fare so well with pity.

Rosalie's smile fell as she eyed me warily, likely sensing my determination. I tried to grab the blankets back, but she kept them out of reach.

"You need to get out of the house. It isn't healthy for you to stay cooped up in here," she said, although I knew she was referring more to the alcohol than my lack of social interaction. I went to school five days a week. Wasn't that enough?

…

Although I wasn't too pleased about having to spend the day shopping with Rosalie and Jessica, I was grateful for Jessica's presence. With her there, Rosalie was unable to pester me about a variety of topics I had no interest in discussing. Mainly her adoptive brother and why I felt the need to keep the lie going.

Jessica seemed reluctant to speak directly to Rosalie at first and had even attempted starting a conversation with me, but she soon got over that. Thankfully. I was also glad Rosalie had picked up Jessica first because it was so much easier for me to hide in the backseat.

Sometimes Rosalie would catch my eye in the rearview mirror. I avoided looking into all reflective surfaces.

We pulled up into a parking garage for this shopping center. I couldn't remember if this place existed back home, but I figured if it had, Alice would have—

_No_, I thought.

I drifted from store to store, staying with them, but keeping my distance. I barely pretended to listen as they spoke, but I did try on everything they suggested. I just didn't have the will to argue today.

I stared at my reflection, touching the material on my skin and noting how the bottom projected outward, as if it couldn't stand to be so close to me. The thin straps slid off my slumped shoulders, but not once did I think to correct my posture.

"You look really pretty," Jessica commented, to which Rosalie agreed.

I nodded, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, but feeling uneasy at how white and clean it looked when draped across my body.

I carried my bag with one finger hooked into the looped handle, wondering if it would be wrong of me to drop it and continue walking. I didn't want that pure white thing, but when Rosalie asked me for a reason not to get it, I couldn't come up with one.

Jessica bought a turquoise necklace and Rosalie a yellow dress. Rosalie proclaimed that just because her hair is blonde, doesn't mean she should have to avoid the color yellow. That dress was her rebellion. Jessica said turquoise reminded her of peace.

I shrugged, not caring what they bought.

"Are you okay, Bella?" Jessica's eyes were focused on the long noodle she was trying to curve around her fork.

I think she knew that I was more likely to answer if she seemed uninterested and in any other case she might have been right, but not today. At any rate, I mumbled something and she was placated for the moment.

Rosalie however, with knowledge that proved otherwise, didn't buy it. Then again, I never really expected her to. They could think whatever they wished about me because honestly, I just didn't really care. Nothing really mattered.

We left shortly after finishing our lunch—I had a bowl of soup as per Rosalie's insistence—deposited our bags, or in my case, _bag_, into the trunk and piled into the car.

She dropped off Jessica first, a move that did not go unnoticed, despite my lack of attentiveness. When she pulled into my driveway, I knew not to go inside just yet.

"Talk to me," she pleaded.

"There's nothing to say."

"I can't just stand by and watch you did this."

"Then don't watch."

I got out then, hearing the soft click of the door signaling the end of that conversation. I didn't miss the look of hurt on her face as I exited the car. When I turned around to shut the front door, her car was already gone.

I sought refuge on the couch, for I thought I lacked the energy to climb all those stairs.

…

I opened my eyes and stared blankly at the closed drapes. That clock was still broken and without a view of the outside, I was left without a sense of time.

My body moved sluggishly into the kitchen, instinct driving me forward. Flitting across the counter and cupboards, my gaze shifted as slowly as my body.

The empty bottle at my feet remained unseen until it was too late, and I began to fall forward. My arms shot out—barely grasping the counter and preventing the collision.

Heaving heavy pants, I clutched the counter tighter until the edge began to cut into my palms. Once I was sure I wasn't going to vomit, I straightened and pulled out the drawer in front of me. I stared at its contents for a while.

…

_Cause you remind me of a time when we were so alive_

_(Everything has changed)_

…

**A/N: Reviewers get a preview. If you're looking for something unique to read, I recommend **_**Elemental**_**. You can find a link in my favorite stories. **

**Summary: When the Swans return to their birthplace, Bella learns she is no ordinary teenager, and Forks is no ordinary town. Can she fulfill her destiny with the powerful Edward Cullen, or will dark forces that threaten their families destroy them all?**

**Side notes: I have a twitter (if you're interested in my ramblings). I am consistently adding entries to The Twilight 25 (under the title "Stained Scarlet"). Punkfarie is awesome (you have her to thank for being my cheerleader/butt kicker and for reassuring my pessimistic ass that everything I write isn't crap). Also, I may not say it enough, but I love you people. I love all of your reviews. (We're almost to 700…)**


	22. Chapter 20: Beating and Beating

**Disclaimer: Twilight and all of its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The plot is mine.**

**A/N: I am so sorry for the delay. Writer's block is a bitch. Thank you to everyone who sent me kind words of encouragement. The first part of this chapter took place right after Chemistry from the last chapter. After that, the rest of this follows the end of the last chapter. Hopefully one of the big reveals in this chapter will make up for its short length. =/**

Chapter 20: Beating and Beating and Beating

"A Box Full of Sharp Objects" –_The Used_

_Found a box of sharp objects…_

…_what a beautiful thing_

***

Gym became a distant and unimportant thought as I moved toward my goal with only one thing on my mind.

"Can we talk for a minute?"

She squinted at me, measuring my worth with cold eyes that drifted fluently up and down my form. She scoffed at me, but I kept my gaze leveled.

"What do you want?" she finally asked, conceding to at the very least, hear me out.

We were alone, so I didn't have to worry about unwanted ears picking up on our conversation. I didn't know if there were any vampires close enough to hear, but I needed to do this and I would just have to deal with the consequences if there were.

"I wanted to ask you about your visions."

"What about them?" she snapped.

"Rosalie and Jasper told me you had visions of Edward and me?" I asked quietly, recalling the conversation we had at a time that seemed so very long ago.

"Unfortunately," she grimaced.

I swallowed. "Are they… Are they still there?"

"Of course they're still there," she huffed before searching my eyes. "Why wouldn't they be?"

I breathed a sigh of relief. This meant that despite Edward's declarations of being through dealing with me, we would still end up together. I still had a reason to keep going through the motions.

"After what he said to me today, I thought… Well, I thought that something might have changed."

She stared at me. "You thought the visions would have changed?" she clarified.

"Yeah…" I nodded slowly.

"What is my ability?" she suddenly asked.

"What?"

"Just answer the question."

"You can see the future," I said with furrowed brows. "You have visions."

She continued to stare at me in that unnerving way. She just stared at me in silence for a moment, scrutinizing me.

"I have visions, but not of the future."

I blinked at her a few times, "What?"

"So you thought," she paused, smiling wickedly. "When Jasper and Rosalie told you about my visions of the two of you… You actually thought you had a chance with him?"

"You have visions…" I whispered.

"Of the past," she grinned widely. "Oh that's just sad. You've been walking around with this false sense of hope all this time, haven't you?"

My gaze darted to the floor for the first time. I couldn't look into her eyes any longer. This couldn't be happening. This just couldn't be happening.

"Well Bella, I would love to just watch you crumble, but I must be off." She walked passed me with her bag slung over her shoulder and paused at the door.

"Oh and Bella? Enjoy your alcohol binge," she laughed before shutting the door behind her.

…

How could I have been so _stupid_?

Everyone in this place is different. _Everyone_. How could I not have realized Alice's abilities might be different too?

I am an idiot.

I assumed _everything_ and all it got me was _this_. _This_ place, _this_ point in time, and _these_ thoughts.

How could I even entertain the idea that my life could change? That everything could be different?

Nothing will ever be different. Just because I'm in a new place, doesn't mean I can ever change. I will continue to be a waste of space, same as always.

This realization brought a new slew of thoughts and ideas. Ones I had long since abandoned and some that I had never imagined I would even be able to entertain.

What if life becomes entirely meaningless and breathing becomes a way to pass the time as you wait for the hourglass to officially run out?

What if that hourglass could be stopped? Would that be such a terrible fate? To live forever?

_Yes_, my heart screamed. Forever is agony if you don't have anyone to share it with.

What if I did manage the change? What if my memories faded?

Forgetting Edward would be a cruel punishment, but what if I maintained those memories, but lost the rest? Forget the guilt over leaving Charlie. What if I didn't have to relive the worst day of my life almost every night in my dreams? What if I could feel something other than pain or numb? What if I could feel _happy_?

Maybe I'm getting ahead of myself.

Maybe I wouldn't survive.

Either way, Bella Swan will die.

…

I decided to pick up this one—it has little swirls carved in the handle. I'm not sure why, but I kind of like it. The swirls. It reminds me of everything swirling down the drain. I'm staring at the plug and for a moment I think I could stop the flow, but it passes.

I sighed.

Was I really going to do this? _Could_ I do this?

I turned the knife in my hand, feeling the wooden handle and hoping for splinters.

Pain has always been a part of my life. Being so undeniably clumsy and accident prone, I've been through a lot. I've seen my share of hospital rooms, worn my share of hospital gowns and bandages.

I've even been bitten by a vampire.

No.

Make that _two_ vampires.

My point is that through all of these injuries, I'd like to think I've developed a strong threshold for pain. I get hurt and I endure the pain quietly until I heal. Some ailments are worse than others, but I always heal. Even emotionally, my body has its defense.

Numbness.

A defense that up until recently had worked out just fine. Sure I felt like a walking corpse most of the time, but at least I wasn't writhing on the floor and clutching my chest in agony.

The numb worked like a glossy balm smeared over my wounds to dull the pain. But when you wash all that away…the wounds are still there. And these ones… These ones aren't healing.

My body is so much stronger than my heart. It can take so much more. If only I could transfer the pain… Maybe then. Maybe then it would become bearable.

I held the blade over my skin, just watching the silver hover over the white. For this to work, I would need to overcome my aversion to blood. I would need to develop a tolerance.

I think I stood like that for a long time. I didn't have any source of time, but it felt like forever. I could barely feel the sweat pooling into a layer that covered most of my skin. I could barely feel the harsh indents my teeth were making into my chapped lips. I noticed these things, but I could barely feel them.

The only thing I could really feel was that knife in my hand.

I thought about taking another drink to help soothe my nerves, but I didn't want to tarnish this. I wanted this act to be purely my own. I didn't want to wield the crutch of liquid courage. I wanted this to be all me.

More time passed. I think my body was beginning to feel the wear because I was finding it difficult to stand. Exhaustion made my eyes feel so very heavy, but I worried that leaving my position would be leaving my cause behind. I worried that I would never have the courage to make it this far again.

I reflected on my reasons for doing this and eventually my thoughts drifted into a darker place.

Everything, every horrible word that had left Edward or _Edward_'s mouth—even the ones my subconscious had conjured—hit me like a strike of lightning. Each one competed for its moment in the limelight, pressing into my chest like sharp needles into flesh. None of them faded as the next one took its turn to inflict, but remained buzzing around my head, a burden that would never leave.

_You are nothing._

Breathing became difficult as it felt like my chest was ripping and caving and splitting. Chunks of me were being pulled and snatched away by each one, until all I could hear was the exposed and pumping heart that refused to just stop. Just stop beating and beating and beating and leave me alone.

I didn't even really notice it.

Not the way my hand jerked or the pressure on my skin. Not a sting or a drop as it spilled.

But I did smell the blood.

The mixture of rust and stale alcohol in my belly made me dry heave for a moment, but once that passed, I realized something extraordinary.

The calm.

The pure serenity that seemed to just flow into the break of skin and into my body, spreading through my arms, all the way down to my toes. The ripping and caving and splitting stopped and my chest closed so nicely like a ribbon tied gently around a present.

That terrible buzzing was gone and all I could hear was my breathing and the muted sounds of my heart beat, beat, beating.

I looked down at my arm and stared at the little cut that had brought me so much peace. I stared at the blood and watched the nothing drip away.

…

_It was the best idea I ever had_

…


	23. Chapter 21: I Can't Believe Its Not Real

**Disclaimer: Twilight and all of its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The plot is mine…**

**A/N: kjoyp gets a gold star. I can't remember why though. I put that in this A/N ages ago. LOL. I'm sorry about the wait. I have one final left. After that, I should be free to write more. Assuming that writer's block doesn't suffocate me again. Thank you all for sticking with me and reviewing. You have no idea how much reassuring my pessimistic ass needs in order to keep writing this story. I think this chapter is done because Punkadie told me I'd never finish this story. Screw you Punkadie! (I still love you though. Lmao). Oh and if you're interested, I do a weekly story recommendation on the Bfffers website. Reviewers get a preview, as always. I always feel like I'm forgetting something…**

Chapter 21: I Can't Believe It's Not Real Happiness

"Razorblade" –_Blue October_

_A brief bout with a razorblade cut me_

_I freaked out, thinking people didn't love me_

_I watched closely as the you I knew forgot me_

_In letting go, I am so proud of what I've done._

_..._

I expected the vomiting. Cursing. Crying. Regret.

But never did I suspect that it would feel _so_ good, would be _so_ relieving. It was like the alcohol without the forced consumption or the terrible aftertaste that so often stained my mouth.

It was adrenaline, but it wasn't. It was this deep gray cloud of just _wonderful_ coating my skin, replacing the sweat and anxious nerves.

The plan was set, but this…this was just _good_.

I wasn't all smiles and giggles and twirling, but I felt alright. Hell, I felt _okay_.

Who knew that all it would take is a little more pain for everything to feel right?

…

My classes passed without incident. Eric, Angela, and anyone else who tried to get me down just fell into the background. There was only one moment where I was actually worried about what I had done and what I was planning to do.

Rosalie sniffed the air, her gaze darting to my arm.

"What happened?" she asked, frowning.

I followed her gaze to my arm and tried my best at keeping myself calm, shrugging nonchalantly. I wondered if her sincerity ability applied to nonverbal gestures.

"Oh, I cut myself yesterday," I answered simply.

She was still staring at my arm, but finally, she offered me a small smile.

"You're probably the clumsiest person I know," she smiled. "You should be more careful."

I nodded, allowing myself a small smile of my own.

…

"Are you sure?" she asked, pausing hesitantly at the door to the cafeteria.

We both knew that I wouldn't be sitting at their table today, not after everything that had happened recently. I suppose she was just offering because that was the right thing to do—the polite thing to do.

"Yeah, I really need to do some research for this essay I have to write," I explained.

She smiled sadly at me because we both knew that was a lie.

I waited until she was out of sight before making my way to the library and taking a seat near the window. I sat there, tapping my fingernails on the wood, wondering if I was really going to go through with this.

I was anxious, but the boost in confidence I experienced yesterday hadn't entirely worn off. I was almost certain that this could work and dare I imagine, end up being very easy to execute?

Through the window, I could see into the forest behind the school. The closely knit trees hindered my line of sight passed its beginning. The gray backdrop of sky and dark green leaves reminded me of the night everything changed.

I didn't necessarily feel like myself, the way I used to be, but I didn't feel so lost. I didn't feel untouchable.

I felt in control.

I was so broken then, and although I still felt fractured into barely manageable pieces, I believe I have come far since that day. Today was evidence of that.

As was the exacto-knife in my backpack.

…

Lunch passed by easily and I felt only a little apprehensive as I made my way to Chemistry. There were things I was trying not to think about, worries I didn't want to give a name to. I passed through the door, stiffening only at the sight of Mr. Banner sitting behind his desk.

He stared at me for a moment in irritation, but I kept my head held high. I wasn't going to let him get to me today. As far as I was concerned, that day never happened. It wasn't like I could press charges or anything. Who knew how many times Izzy had been with him? Who knew what kind of evidence he might have?

No. I'd be better off just letting it go and avoiding running into him in secluded areas. It was a cowardly move and I knew it. But really…what else was I supposed to do?

I sat on the edge of my seat, completely wired and unable to relax. The little paper cutting knife seemed to weigh with each passing minute, and I found myself scratching needlessly at the bulge it made in my jeans several times.

Okay, I was a little nervous. It was in these minutes at our table before class started that I couldn't keep the worries away.

What would happen if he couldn't resist?

I mean, I didn't want him to resist… That was the whole point. But we needed to be away from prying eyes before anything could happen. These people may be different from the ones I'm familiar with, but they're still people. They don't deserve to die just because I'm such an emotional wreck and came up with this truly insane plan.

What if in his desire to get me, he killed someone else?

I tried to ignore the little shiver than ran through me when I thought '_his desire to get me_' and focused on possible ways to deter him from murdering a class of students.

If I got up and walked out the door, would he follow me? Or would it only make him angrier, more crazed?

I hated that all of these things were coming up now, but I was still kind of grateful. If I had let myself think about these things before, I never would have had the nerve to bring that little knife. As it was, I was still leaning towards going through with it…

Five minutes passed. Five minutes of Mr. Banner's lecturing. Five minutes of me wondering…

_Where IS he?_

...

I finally went to Gym after waiting outside the Chemistry room for a few minutes. I didn't necessarily expect him to show up after the class had ended and I had absolutely no idea what I'd do if he did, but I just couldn't bring myself to move.

I had been _ready_.

…

Mrs. Hall was particularly nasty today. Then again, maybe I was just being pissy.

She split us up into teams to play basketball, resulting in a collective groan from my team as she placed me there. I was whacked on the head by the ball more times than I could count and each time I just grew madder and madder.

"They're pummeling you," Jessica pointed out as I rubbed my head.

She was on another team, but kept darting to my side when we took short water breaks. I slumped down on the linoleum floor, peering at her as she slid down next to me.

"I can't believe she's just letting it happen."

I followed Jessica's gaze to Mrs. Hall, who was demonstrating the best way to do a lay-up. She missed several times before barking an order at her TA for not keeping the balls pumped with enough air. I would have snickered with Jessica if I hadn't been so irritated.

"She has it out for me."

"Yeah," she sighed.

Sitting here with her and feeling so annoyed made me feel a little bold.

"Hey Jess?"

"Yeah?" she turned her head to look at me.

"Would you say we hung out a lot…before?"

"Before what?" she asked, but she didn't look confused in the slightest.

"You know…before?" I asked, gesturing with my hands and hoping she'd understand what I meant.

She grimaced. "Not really. I mean, we used to a long time ago… But after…" she trailed off, looking at the floor.

"Why did we stop hanging out?"

She avoided my gaze. "Well you were busy with everything… Funeral arrangements and stuff…"

"And after that?"

"Well…I-"

"I was a bitch?" I surmised.

She looked up at me then in surprise. "To be honest? Kinda, yeah," she laughed uncomfortably.

"I'm a different person, you know?" I said adamantly.

I was _not_ her.

"I know," she smiled.

"SWAN! STANLEY! GET YOUR BUTTS INTO GEAR, OR I'LL MAKE THE ENTIRE CLASS RUN LAPS THE REST OF THE WEEK!"

"We'd better get going before she releases the Kraken," Jessica commented as she helped me up.

I laughed as we went our separate ways. I was really going to miss this Jessica.

…

The creaking of old floorboards and the hum of the refrigerator did nothing to fill the silence. If anything, they strengthened the force of it as the lack of noise created a lack of oxygen and my lungs began to ache.

My throat was too damn dry and my skin felt itchy and wrong. No matter how much I scrubbed in the shower, no matter how much soap I used, it just _wasn't going away_.

I couldn't figure out what was wrong with me, but I was so damn desperate and it was so easy to rationalize. I picked up that little knife off the counter, gently peeling back the bandages on my arm before moving it above my skin.

There was a moment where I wondered whether this was right. Whether I could even trust my judgment of _right_ anymore. Whether this whole thing was just the wrong way out.

He had only been gone for three days.

But I still couldn't breathe and my skin still itched and I just wanted it to stop.

The little blade sunk into my skin like butter.

…

"Jesus, Bella. What happened?" Rosalie asked as I grabbed a few books out of my locker.

Her gaze was locked on my arm, her nostrils flared.

"It reopened while I was doing stuff in the kitchen."

Technically that was true. It had reopened while I was doing stuff in the kitchen.

While I was cutting it back open in the kitchen.

Emmett started gesturing at her with his hands rapidly and I stared in confusion as they both burst into laughter.

I would be lying if I said I wasn't surprised when I saw him waiting outside our class for Rosalie. I had expected him to whisk her away, so that they could go somewhere I _wasn't_, but neither of them had made any move to abandon me. Even so, I was a little intimidated by him.

"What did he say?" I asked curiously.

"He suggested that we wrap you in bubble wrap," she giggled behind her hand.

"I wish I knew sign language," I sighed. "Maybe I should just hang a whiteboard around your neck," I blurted unthinkingly.

I clasped a hand over my mouth, feeling ten different types of horrible as Rosalie and Emmett both stared at me in shock. I couldn't believe I had said something like that and I was a little afraid as he took a step toward me. His arms rose and I ducked my head, waiting for him to beat me or choke me or something, but was unbelievably surprised as he picked me up off the ground in an affectionate hug.

"Whoa, Emmett. Don't hurt the poor girl," Rosalie smiled.

Noticing my inability breathe, Emmett released me. I stared at him in shock as he sent a couple signs to Rosalie, patted my head with a smile, and took off down the hall.

"What just happened?"

"He likes you," Rosalie grinned.

From that moment on, Emmett was almost always with Rosalie and me. I couldn't believe he wasn't bothered with me like Alice. He would just smile and pat my head, signing to Rosalie so that she could tell me what he wanted.

Apparently he was really set on that whiteboard idea.

…

Today was Thursday.

_And he still wasn't here_.

It didn't make sense. The sun wasn't out, so it couldn't have been that. His siblings had been in class all week, so it didn't make any sense for him not to be.

_Maybe he's avoiding you_.

I shook my head to drive the thought away, but now that it was there, ignoring it became rather difficult. I mean, what else could it be?

…

The school grounds were oddly vacant as I parked my truck. It was only after entering the quiet halls that I realized I had arrived much earlier than usual. It would seem that today was going to be one of those days.

I hadn't really slept last night. It wasn't that I had a particular reason to stay awake like avoiding my nightmares. They had been absent most of the week, granting me more uninterrupted sleep than I had in a while.

There was something about last night though that kept me alert. As far as I know, there wasn't anything different about it than the rest of the week, but my eyes seemed adamant about staying open. Hoping to alleviate some of my boredom, I had eventually migrated to the living room couch to watch late night infomercials.

When the barely visible sun began to peak its way through the windows, I figured it was about time I showered. I had even spent an unnaturally long amount of time curling my hair and picking out my clothes.

I didn't make the effort because I had anyone to impress, but just for something _to do_.

Ever since I had given up reading, I found that my free time was irritatingly empty. There weren't any hobbies that I could stuff in that long expanse of time because honestly, I rarely felt the urge to do anything these days.

I didn't miss the novels I read, but the feeling I got when I did. The way I could immerse myself in the world, devoting my emotions to each character as I waited to see how their lives turned out. It didn't matter that I had read some of them enough to quote scenes word for word.

Although this week had been one of confidence and control, I really missed the way I used to be.

I was too tired in English to tell Eric to buzz off when he started talking my ear off about the party he was having this weekend. Most of what he said just translated into white noise, so it wasn't a total loss. Rosalie looked really worried about me in Calculus, asking me if I was okay as she so often did these days.

Emmett was waiting for us like he had since earlier in the week, but didn't offer his usual smile as we approached. He signed something at Rosalie and I waited patiently for her to translate.

"He wants to know how you're doing."

When are people going to stop asking that stupid question?

"Fine. I just didn't get much sleep."

He was frowning, but seemed placated for the moment as he patted my head and went off to his next class. Rosalie wound her arm around mine, but I was too tired to be bothered by the contact, even as her skin cooled mine and reminded me of him.

…

I was really not looking forward to Chemistry. I was honestly tired of how I would undoubtedly keep glancing at the door each time someone entered and hoping to see him. I was exhausted enough with that.

I stared at the table top, jumping when I was hit with a sudden awareness that I wasn't sitting alone anymore. I turned to my left to see Edward pulling out his notebook and pen.

And just like that, I was awake.

I stared at him, mouth agape. He hadn't been here all week and now he was just sitting there, taking notes. He didn't say anything as I continued staring at him and although I had many questions I wanted to ask him, namely, '_where were you_', I managed to direct my attention to the front.

I kept sending him glances, but not once did he acknowledge me.

I realized as he was studiously ignoring me, that this would just make my plan all the more easy. I doubt I'd be able to go through with it with those eyes of his staring at me.

I touched the paper cutting knife in my pocket, ready to remove the tiny case guarding the sharp blade. Despite my doubt that he would show up at all this week, I kept transferring the little knife into the jeans I was wearing.

As I fingered the cylindrical handle, a small part of me was worried again. Not for what he'd do to me, but what could happen to everyone else.

_What if he can't control himself enough to leave the room?_

Everything was banking on Edward's ability to control himself in this crowded room.

_He isn't him_, the voice reminded me.

My Edward—I cringed at the possessive tone I hadn't meant to add—was able to stop himself from draining me even as he tasted my blood, but what if this one couldn't? What if the fresh flowing blood proved to be too much for him?

What if he went on a killing spree because of it?

And it was at that point that I stopped paying attention to '_the voice of reason'_.

No matter what universe, I knew Edward could never do something like that.

My heart was pounding in my chest as I pushed my sleeves up in preparation. I could feel the adrenaline shooting through my veins. I was going to do this.

Then he looked at me.

He looked from my face to my hand resting on my pocket.

He was staring at me, but not in that intense way he usually does. It was this indifferent stare, empty of emotion. He was looking at me as if I wasn't even there.

In a moment of clarity, I realized that maybe his absence all week had nothing to do with me. He wasn't ignoring me because that would take energy, effort. He had to have seen the blade, yet he said nothing as he looked back to the front.

He just didn't care anymore.

As I came to that realization, I felt the hand half wedged in my pocket slide down to hang limply at my side. I could no longer feel that confidence I had felt throughout the week, or the nerve to pursue my plan.

Moving my hands to rest on the table, I laid my head down and stared at nothing.

...

_It is you I set my standards to… to every walk of life_

_I haven't met another you since you were with me._

_..._


	24. Chapter 22: Defiant

**Disclaimer: Twilight and all of its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The plot is mine…**

**A/N: Writer's block. Meh. Hope you enjoy this longer chapter. Oh, and please check out my new story **_**Moonlight, Mayonnaise and Maggots**_** because I've been updating it pretty consistently. And no, it isn't a crackfic. Just ignore the title…mostly. Reviewers get a preview.**

Chapter 22: Defiant

"Open Wounds" –_Skillet_

_Doesn't matter what I do_

_Nothing's gonna change_

_I'm never good enough._

…

Gym passed in a swirl of burnt orange and mildew yellow—just colors. The world was muted, a silent vibrating buzz that I could only feel because I knew it was there. My surroundings took on a darker quality that rivaled the depressing gray sky.

It's interesting how in this world of feeling and not, everything can suddenly become so clear.

For the first time I think I was really accepting the fact that maybe Edward and I just weren't meant to be. I know I've always felt that our pairing almost created an imbalance in nature, for who so eternally wonderful could love someone so brief and ordinary?

But had I ever really believed it to be true? Wasn't there that place deep inside of me that just _knew_ we were right for each other and that everything would work out in the end?

I had realized something today as I stared into those eyes—_his_ eyes. Like a mirror, they reflected the truth that I could not see through my own tunnel vision.

Despite my curls and my fancier clothes, I could see the desperation, the obsession, in my own eyes. I could see it and it made me sick.

When had I become so pathetic?

I think that hopeful part of me that always knew everything would turn out alright in the end—died in that moment.

Shriveled, withered, and gone.

…

The cutting had been a last ditch effort. I realized that now. Evidence of my own desperation, my unwillingness to just accept reality.

I left the locker room, grimacing at the clothes I had no choice but to put back on. The blue v-neck and black pants I had chosen almost itched with the way they rubbed on my skin with each step I took. I felt disgusted at the idea that I had basically chosen this outfit to wear through my transition. The blue had given it a ceremonious quality, while the black represented the funeral I would never have.

Pathetic.

"Bella?"

I looked up at Eric, who was quirking an eyebrow at me. I was just standing in the middle of the sidewalk being jostled by people as they walked by. I hadn't realized I had stopped.

"What do you want?" I sighed.

Defeated.

"I'm having another party tomorrow night," he huffed out as he pushed off of the wall he was leaning against.

"So?"

"So, I just thought you'd like to know," he smirked as he nudged passed me in the opposite direction.

I looked down at my hand at the little slip of paper he had slipped between my fingers.

I don't know why, but I put it in my pocket.

…

I stood in the doorway, not sure if I was surprised to see her.

"Hey. Mind if I come in?"

I sighed as I stepped aside to take my place back on the sofa. After shutting the door behind her, she sat down on the other end. I squinted at the blinds even though it was too gray for sunlight to be pouring through.

"So…" she broke the silence.

I think she was hoping I'd offer something in response, but I didn't.

"So," she repeated. "I hope I'm not intruding," she spoke timidly.

I looked down at the carpet, noticing a little brown stain. I wasn't sure what it was, or when it was from. I didn't remember doing it, so it had probably been there long before me.

"Should I take the silence as a '_Yes, you are intruding, now get the hell out of my house?_'" she laughed uneasily.

People always act uneasy when the other party is silent.

"Okay, I was kidding, but I'm starting to think I wasn't that far off base," she said slowly before standing up. "I'm sorry to have bothered you, it's just…well….things are a little—I mean, home just isn't somewhere I wanted to be right now," she finished.

She was at the door before I finally opened my mouth.

I cleared my throat. "It's fine."

She whirled around, shocked to hear me speak. "So you won't mind if I hang with you for a little while?"

I shrugged, but she still seemed doubtful.

"Uh…yeah. Sure. What else am I gonna do?" I tried to smile.

Her head tilted to the side as she regarded me. "You know you don't have to lie to me right?"

I smiled a little more evenly. Despite my unending emotional turmoil, I really liked Rosalie.

"Yeah, I know."

She settled back into the couch cushions, but looked so worried about whatever was bothering her that I decided I'd at least try to make an effort.

"Where's Emmett?" I asked.

"At home. He actually begged to come over here with me, but I figured one of us intruding was enough," she said with a small smile.

I frowned, feeling guilty. "I wouldn't have minded if Emmett had come."

Almost as soon as the words left my mouth, I heard a loud bang come from behind me. I turned around to find Emmett standing in the doorway, wearing a large grin, which slowly fell as he noticed the dent he had made in my wall.

"Emmett! Look what you did!" Rosalie exclaimed as she jumped up to finger the cracks.

Emmett was signing furiously with this really sad look on his face. I couldn't help but chuckle.

"It's fine."

"But…but your door!" Rosalie pointed at the damage he had made.

"As long as it still shuts and locks, its fine," I told them.

Emmett stared fixatedly at the door as he slowly inched it shut and turned the locks, listening for the clicks as they moved into place. Once the door was completely shut and locked, he took a step back and stared for a moment before breaking out into a little victory dance.

"Don't think you're off the hook, Mister," Rosalie warned him, causing his smile to fall.

Emmett mouthed his apologies to me as Rosalie inspected the damage a little closer.

"I can fix this tonight," Rosalie said.

Something about that really bothered me.

"Don't worry about it Rosalie. I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Maybe…but I—I mean _we_—would really like to make it up to you," she said, eying Emmett.

It took some persuading, but eventually they agreed to let it go for the time being. I was fairly certain Rosalie still had every intention of replacing my door, even if she had to sneak in to do it.

For the next couple of hours, we talked and even laughed at times. Hanging out with Rosalie and Emmett really was one of the highlights of the last couple weeks. They were great together and although I knew it shouldn't bother me, it kind of did.

Why was it so easy for them?

…

I giggled, pointing at the little crack in the door.

"Hello, little crack."

I watched the little crack wave goodbye as I stepped out into the bitter cold night. Another gulp from the bottle was surprisingly warming. I could barely hear the slish-slosh of its contents over my heavy breathing.

Rosalie and Emmett had left ages ago and although it was late, I had the insatiable urge to go on a little nature walk. On some level I knew this probably wasn't something I should be doing, but I could hardly be concerned with that right now.

I was twirling.

"Oh, excuse me!" I said to the little branch I had accidentally bumped into.

I frowned at the stinging of my palm and the sight of blood. Something should be happening. I can't remember what, but this…this isn't right.

I kept walking passed the trees, finally stuffing my hand into my pocket when I still couldn't remember. After taking a few drinks, I felt my body relax a little more. I expect my spirits to lift, but instead, I find awareness returning.

With my hands clenched tightly at my sides, I push my way through the trees, allowing the branches to touch my arms, my legs, my face. My cheeks begin to sting, but the chilling air quickly numbs the pain.

I think about my life—past and present—and I think that maybe I'm tired of thinking. Thoughts that serve no other purpose than to knock me down float too freely and at too high a volume.

I imagine the bitter and the pitiful words being washed away with each gulp I take, and that soothing calm I feel where the pain is nonexistent, before the storm wages in my belly, my body simultaneously elated and angry for the relief of the drink.

Without meaning to, I end my journey once I'm certain I'm lost. Perhaps the alcohol has impaired my sight and memory, but I can't help but think of how similar the area is to that bit of forest I had chosen to end my life what seems like so very long ago.

The next thing I know, I'm sitting in the damp grass with my knees pulled up to my chin, just staring. A tree has fallen some distance away, but the way the massive thing was severed from its trunk looks so violent that I imagine it being forced to the floor by a powerful strike from the sky. Again, I wonder whether the similarity has meaning, or if I'm too far gone to recognize coincidence.

I finish off the bottle quickly. I don't think there was a lot in it to begin with, but then, I find the amount difficult to recall. There was enough to take some of the edge off, but I am still too aware and conscious of my feelings.

I feel so lost, broken yet bound, and entirely sick of this conflict.

Too unhappy to live, yet too scared to die.

Lost in the in-between is so stifling. As I lean toward life, I am allowed a gulp of air, but it is more like smoke that burns on its way in and out. But as I lean toward death, my breath is stolen, leaving me gasping and teetering back the way I came.

Edward's existence seems like an act of fate, for had he not been turned, he would have died before my time. But why grant me him, only to take him away? Why bring me here to this place, to this Edward, only to take him away too?

What was the point?

Is there a God up there dictating fate, or is he just a demonic puppeteer, gnarling strings until they're twisted and wrong and they break?

On the ground I sat, staring at the fallen tree, wishing that life could be like a fairytale and that everything could fall into place so perfectly, with happiness around the corner rather than despair.

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, trying to clear my mind. What I noticed as I became more attentive to the surrounding sounds was that…there weren't any.

There was no one that I could see, just the night sky, the convergence of trees, and my own fallen one whose trunk still remained abandoned feet away. I held my breath in an attempt to better listen, knowing that the forest was only silent for one reason. I could still hear nothing, but then again, I knew my ears were too weak to pick up the almost silent movements.

Whether from hopefulness or stupidity, I found myself uttering his name.

"Edward?" I called into the darkness.

The wind began to pick up, and I turned my head this way and that with each scrape of branch on branch, the leaves almost whistling as they flutter furiously. No matter how hard I strain my ears, I hear nothing. I feel ridiculous for thinking Edward might be here.

He didn't come back for me the day I followed him into the forest, so why should he now?

Still, the silence was unnerving. He probably wasn't out here, but that didn't mean that I was alone. What if it was someone who wanted to hurt me?

As if responding to my thoughts, the wind picked up, howling like a wounded beast. The sound seemed to carry from all directions, bending the surrounding trees to its will. I could scarcely see through the hair whipping wildly across my face.

"Edward!" I called in desperation as pieces of debris flew in my face.

There was too much dirt in the air and I was having trouble breathing.

"_Bella_."

I froze.

"Edward?"

"_Bella_."

I looked up slowly, expecting to see Edward standing just feet away, laughing at me, or maybe nothing. Maybe I expected to see nothing because at this point, I was beginning to think I had lost my mind.

But what I _did_ see was strange and wonderful and painful.

I could see Edward moving toward me, rapidly for a human, but slow for a vampire. He was paler than I had ever seen him, almost translucent. Without a second thought I was on my feet and racing toward him. I was barely able to move against the wind, but nothing could have stopped me in that moment.

Because despite the distance, there was something that I just _knew_. I didn't need to be close enough to see the color of his eyes because my heart could feel the pull.

It was _him_. _My_ Edward.

"Edward!"

"Bella?"

"Yes! It's me!" I yelled back, pushing forward against the wind with all my might.

We were steadily closing the gap between us and although I should have been worried about his complexion, I was just so damn happy that I didn't care.

"Edward!" I exclaimed happily as my arms reached out to hug him.

But I felt nothing.

I passed right through him.

When I turned around, he wasn't there.

"Edward!" I shrieked.

"_Bella_," his voice echoed back at me.

I spun around, searching for him, but all I could see were the trees thrashing against the wind. I couldn't fight it any longer.

I fell.

When my eyes opened again, I was in my room, tangled in the sheets. I searched desperately for Edward, but he just wasn't there.

It must have been a dream.

I screamed into my pillow until I was gasping for breath, until there just wasn't anything left.

…

I didn't move until the screaming stopped. In fact, it had stopped long ago, but then I just couldn't do anything but stare blankly at the wall. It wasn't until the need for relief became overwhelming that I finally left my bed.

If I hadn't spent so much time screaming, I would have reacted to the lack of alcohol in the house. The bottles were still there, but they had all been drained. I hadn't been paying attention to how much I drank and now it was all gone.

I couldn't breathe. The pain was beginning to weigh down on me too much. It was all just too much. I needed something to make it go away.

Being under the legal drinking age, I knew I wouldn't be able to just go buy more. The liquor cabinet was empty and there wasn't anything I could use to take the edge off. I didn't want to use physical pain because although that took my mind off of the emotional stuff, it still hurt.

I didn't want to hurt anymore.

I found the note Eric gave me crumbled up in my pocket and for a moment, I let myself entertain the idea of attending this party. I was never one for parties, always worried that I would make a fool of myself, being the klutz that I am. But with bare cupboards and fresh wounds and the need of _something_ to stifle the pain, I really began to consider it.

Parties were usually stocked with alcohol and I needed my liquid courage. Inevitably I would have to deal with Eric, but in the grand scheme of things, didn't the promise of numbing my pain outweigh the minor discomfort and annoyance Eric would cause?

Yes.

Yes, it did.

…

I was wearing a pair of jeans and a nice white blouse, wondering if I was damning myself to a night of messy spills just for wearing something so easily dirtied. I might have turned back around just to change into something else if it wasn't for my nerves. I was so anxious to just get there and drown my sorrows and didn't think I could wait much longer.

Eric's house…I couldn't remember if I had ever been there before in my own world. That place seemed so far away from now, almost like a dream.

His house was dirty and worn, a home you'd expect kids to just come pouring out of because it has clearly seen so much use. The lawn looked as dead as it can in a place that always rains. The closest working streetlamp was a couple yards away, casting an ominous glow across the side and creating the illusion of almost darkness.

The sounds of a bunch of rowdy teenagers living it up could be heard down the street, but apart from that, the neighboring houses were strangely quiet, either completely used to the vibrating house, or unwilling to come forward in the name of peace and quiet.

I worried for a moment whether the cops would come and felt a pang of regret with the realization of who _wouldn't_ catch me here participating in illicit activities.

Trudging up to the door and determined to get this night over with, I was a little taken aback at suddenly seeing Eric standing in the doorway. He looked confident and didn't seem surprised at my appearance. He didn't say anything as he stepped aside to allow me entrance. He only smiled knowingly, like he could read me so easily.

If I hadn't been so desperate for relief, I might've said something. Even if the circumstances were different, who is to say I would have had the courage anyway?

I made a beeline for the kitchen, sliding passed randomly grouped off people. I realized not all of them went to Forks High and wondered just how many people Eric actually knew. Some of them must have been from Port Angeles.

I waited patiently as the remaining occupants of the kitchen filtered out before browsing the selection. The scene reminded me of a kid at a candy store, seeing so many wonderful choices placed before him. I picked up an apple Smirnoff first, guzzling the fruity drink greedily. It wasn't strong like my usually poison of choice, but I could already feel the heat gathering on top of my skin and quietly praised myself for having the foresight to tie my hair back in a ponytail.

After two of those, I was feeling better, but still not where I wanted to be. I found something stronger this time and took several hefty gulps.

"Isabella."

I turned around abruptly, losing my grasp on the bottle. Edward swiftly grabbed it before it could fall and eyed the label in disapproval. He was dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a black shirt, his hair as rumpled as always.

"You shouldn't drink so much," he said quietly.

It was so very quiet, placating, and logical, and it just…pissed me off. I snatched a new bottle off of the table and took a swig, ignoring his words of caution. I wanted to be defiant because all I ever am _is_ pliable, letting him mold me with his touch, his words, his gaze.

He had the power to destroy me with one word and he did, time and time again. Yet, I still loved him and yearned for his acceptance, to become what he wants most because I've already found what I need and it's _him_.

It's _him_ and he couldn't care less and that just hurt. It hurt to feel these deep feelings and that my heart beats for him while his is just stationary because who am I to him, but a stranger? He didn't love me, he didn't _know_ me, and yet he could destroy me with one disparaging look.

He didn't look happy that I was blatantly disregarding his thoughts, but at that point, I didn't care. Who was he to come up to me and comment on my actions? He treated me cruelly most days and it's not like he actually cared about my wellbeing.

I couldn't stand the weight of his gaze, so I left him standing there in the kitchen with his words of caution and his disapproving looks.

And I kept drinking from the bottle until it was empty because _this_ just isn't _fair_.

It took a while for the edges of my vision to grow fuzzy and the unfairness of life to slink away from my awareness, hiding in the corner of my eyes like some pesky irritation that won't go away, but could be ignored if need be. A lazy smile adorned my face and although it felt pasty and hollow, it was _something_.

I became almost primal, only aware of my five senses really. The steady pulsing beat of some song I didn't recognize, the way my fingers tapped tunelessly across the counter as I glided forward, the foul taste that somehow remained even as my tongue numbed, the hypnotic flickering of lights, and the smell of sweat and the rise of heat as I puffed out breath after breath after breath.

And just like that, I was almost free. One-worded thoughts would slip through my consciousness, but they too, only served a baser purpose.

_Move_.

And I did, deeper and deeper into the throng of bodies bending, shaking, and rubbing against each other.

_Stop_.

And now I was lost somewhere in the sea of bodies, without apprehension or worry over what I may look like as I slowly begin to join the chaos of heated movement because my body somehow knew the rules to this game. Without the mind tethering me to perceptions and worries, I was free to just be.

I would wonder how I looked, naturally, had I been more conscientious. Vacant and glassy stare, pasty smile, and lethargic movements.

But I was free from those thoughts for the moment and had I felt anything in that moment, I might have rejoiced, or been disgusted. There's no way of knowing, really.

Everything was fine, but not. I was free and yet locked in this state, until something invaded my space and ruined my horribly beautiful trance.

"Haven't seen you in a while," he smirked.

I flinched when his words reached my ear, the sound of his voice snapping me out of my daze. My discomfort with his closeness only seemed to encourage him further.

"What are you on?" he asked curiously. "You seemed out of it a moment ago."

I lifted the bottle in answer, surprised that I had forgotten it was there until now.

"That's it?" his eyebrow raised.

I nodded and took another drink, unhappily. I could feel the thoughts pushing on the fringes of my inebriated mind, just waiting for the right moment of sobriety to dive back into tormenting me. As it was, my _irritation_ was slowly turning into a stabbing pain in my eyes.

"Damn. I guess Mike wasn't kidding when he said you were on your way to the straight and narrow," he commented, a little perplexed.

I raised an eyebrow at him, wondering if he recognized the look in my eyes for what it was and how he could call _this_ the '_straight and narrow_'. I felt like I was spiraling out of control, but apparently, _this_ was tame to my counterpart in comparison?

I wanted this guy to just go away. I didn't recognize him and I didn't want to talk to him. He ruined what little numb I may have had going for me and I didn't feel like pretending to be whoever he was expecting when he approached me. Chances were that I'm not going to like whatever he had come over here with the intention of getting.

"Well it was nice talking to you, but I'd better get going," I finally said and turned around without another word.

"Hey, wait!" he grabbed my arm and I reluctantly turned around.

"You're trying to forget something…escape something…whatever. That isn't my business," he rushed out.

I stared at him.

"The point is that _that_," he pointed to the almost empty bottle in my hands, "ain't gonna cut it."

I downed the last of it, tired of people telling me there was something wrong with my way of coping. I wanted to drink. Why the hell wouldn't they just let me be?

"But I can offer you something that will."

I wasn't paying attention. Not really. But what I saw out of the corner of my eye could not go unnoticed, no matter how much I drank or how fuzzy my vision became around the edges. He would always shine right through and I would see him.

He was staring, well actually _glaring_ at this guy in front of me, offering whatever cure he thought was the answer to what ails me. And that is when this guy had my undivided attention.

The guy noticed my sudden attention and snatched at the opportunity to peddle whatever he was selling onto me.

"I can make the pain go away," he said, smirking like I was some fish who had taken his bait and now he was going to jerk me along softly, until it was time to reel me in.

"Okay," I said breathily.

So very willing.

He took my hand and I clutched it tightly, making him grin in response. I'm sure he saw me as the desperate junkie, willing to do anything to get my next fix. And I was in a way.

He led me through the people around us, continuously glancing back to make sure I was still there, despite my death grip on his hand. He would look at me with silent empathetic understanding, but even I could see the mischief he tried to rein in within his gaze and the set of his mouth.

I was aware that this might not end well for me as far as this guy was concerned, but I was also aware of a pair of powerful eyes burning holes into the back of my head.

And when we were just walking out the door, I looked back at him, meeting his fiery gaze.

Defiantly.

…

_And you can't stop me from falling apart_

'_Cause my self-destruction is all your fault._

…


	25. Chapter 23: Broken

**Disclaimer: Twilight and all of its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The plot is mine…**

**A/N: Thank you for all of the lovely reviews. You have no idea how happy they make me. =) Shorter chapter because I felt like it needed to end where it did. Reviewers get a preview.**

Chapter 23: Broken

"Fade Away" –_Breaking Benjamin_

_It's hopeless, the end will come and wash it all away_

_Forsaken, I live for those I lost along the way_

_And I can't remember how it all began to play_

_I suffer, I live to fight and die another day._

…

The door slid shut and the sound of the music became a distant thump as I allowed this stranger to lead me away. I tried not to think about where he was taking me, or what I would do when we got there. I just let myself bathe in the brief feeling of knowing my actions were the cause of Edward's fury.

To receive any reaction from him felt like a blessing because his indifference scared me more than I cared to admit.

The guy—I realized I still didn't know his name—was leading me down the street to where I suspected his car to be. There were a few rogue partiers stumbling around, some puking in the bushes, while others were just about devouring each other's faces.

Once we rounded the corner, I noticed the lack of people, the lack of cars, but what I was really focused on was the lack of _witnesses_.

My pace slowed of its own accord as I had a moment of doubt.

"Come on," he said when he noticed my reluctance. "It's not that much farther."

I looked back, frowning in disappointment that no one was following us. I knew I hadn't imagined his anger, but maybe that just wasn't enough. I tried to conceal my expression with a smile, so large, so fake.

So empty.

"Ready?" he asked when I turned back around.

He was clearly leading me into the woods and even under the influence, my instincts were telling me to flee because this whole situation had bad idea written all over it. There was a great chance that I wouldn't leave this night unscathed.

But if _he_ doesn't care what happens to me, then why should I?

"Sure," I replied, feeling my smile grow larger and more fake.

More empty.

The moonlight spilled through the canopy of trees, illuminating our path, but just barely. When we did stop, we were close enough to still hear the music, or at least the heavy beat of it, but far enough away that no one would hear us.

_Or hear you scream_, my mind added helpfully.

The guy seemed reluctant to release my hand, but once it became clear that I wasn't going to run away the moment he did, he let go. I watched him dig into his coat pockets, presumably to retrieve whatever it was he thought I needed.

I averted my gaze when I recalled my reaction to finding that small baggie full of drugs hidden under the seat in _her_ truck and my stomach churned as my thoughts eventually rested on Charlie, namely how he would feel if he could see me now.

"So I'm not sure what you're looking for, but I've probably got it," he smiled confidently.

His hands were filled with little Ziploc bags of pills in all different sizes, forms, and colors. I'd imagine that he was the drug world's version of a candy man.

"The question is what do you want to feel? Or I guess, what _don't_ you want to feel," he laughed.

I stared at his hands full of pills and plastic, and I couldn't help but picture those little colored pebbles as the rocks you'd find when you hit rock bottom.

Was that what this was? Rock bottom?

The drinking, the almost drowning, the cutting—had I _really_ done those things? All in the name of what? _Love? _Worse than that, for a love that wasn't reciprocated?

I felt almost like a phantom, like I had drifted through this whole night feeling transparent things and just _being_ transparent.

I don't know what it was—the seclusion, the opportunity, or that sickly sweet smile on his face, but _this_ just didn't feel right. Doing _this_ did feel like throwing myself into a hole I wouldn't be able to climb back up from.

Would I be like Alice, embracing fantasy and magic as I climbed down the rabbit hole?

_No_, I thought. No matter what feelings these pills could illicit, there wouldn't be anything wonderful about them. They would be just as hollow as my chest felt right now.

There wasn't much I had considered taboo since I woke up here, but somehow, I couldn't bring myself to do _this_.

My foolishness for following this guy out here to do whatever it is I had planned was so intense I was worried it would swallow me whole. Luckily, my cheeks were already too red from the alcohol for him to notice.

"So what'll it be?"

I looked from his gaze to the path we had walked along to get to this point, gauging whether I would be able to make it back without difficulty. As always, the odds weren't necessarily in my favor.

"I—I actually should get going," I managed to stutter out.

"I have other stuff in my pockets if none of this is what you're looking for. Let me just—" he began, but I cut him off.

"No, it's okay," I assured him as I took a couple steps back. "I'm sorry for wasting your time. I'm just gonna go…"

He was staring at me with furrowed brows, but otherwise hadn't made a move to stop me or speak, so I turned around and continued walking. I felt relieved as I came closer to the opening marked by the lack of closely packed trees.

I was thrown forward, my knees and palms scraping painfully along the ground as something suddenly connected with my backside. Winded from the impact and fall, I sucked in a long breath, trying to figure out what happened. The warmth of a body—a _human_ body—pressed into my back, its weight pushing me into the ground painfully.

"What the…?" I mumbled into the grass.

"I know what you need," he said huskily into my neck.

I struggled, but I was so pinned to the ground that I could barely move.

"No…"

I felt his weight lift and I tried to escape, but his hold on me was still too strong. My limbs felt lethargic from all of the alcohol still buzzing in my system. He flipped us so that we were nose to nose, laying himself back on top of me and pinning me to the ground once more.

Wiggling my hand free, I raised it to strike his face. I couldn't move my knees, so his groin was safe. My only hope was hitting him hard enough that he'd have to roll off me.

"Always hard to get," he smirked as he grabbed my wrist and pressed it forcefully into the ground above my head, making me whimper in pain.

"I saw you in there, eyes closed as you moved to the music, _there_, but away from everyone. I offered you drugs because you looked so damn needy with that bottle in your hand, but even I could see that's not what you _really needed_."

"Get. Off. Me," I demanded through gritted teeth.

"You needed _this_," he huffed out as he thrust himself roughly between my legs.

I could feel him through my jeans and even my buzz couldn't dilute the pain, or fear that spiked through me. Flashes of James, Tyler, and Mr. Banner flitted behind my eyelids as I momentarily clenched my eyes shut.

"No! I don't want this! Get off me!" blind panic was beginning to overtake me as I thrashed.

"You want it. You're just too scared to ask for it. You need someone to _take_ it," he smirked down at me.

It was too much. The feel of him, the helplessness, the fear, the pain. Heart beating so wildly that I was sure it would just stop from exhaustion. Lungs constricting with a lack of air.

I was breathless, but I still managed to scream. The sound died out as he covered my mouth with his, plunging his slimy tongue inside. With one hand he restrained mine, while his other groped forcefully at my chest.

I was being devoured and even as tears trailed relentlessly down my cheeks, I prayed for the numb to make the agony go away.

As if in answer to my muted prayers, the guy's weight was suddenly gone. Even with my newfound freedom, I could still almost feel his hands groping my skin, his tongue pressed into my mouth, and his body shoving into my jeans forcefully.

Disgusted and dirty, I couldn't stop the tears flowing from my eyes, or the strangled sobs escaping my mouth. The panic was still there even as I recognized the auburn hair resting upon the back of the head of my savior.

He looked down at me and even as I was blinded by tears, I could see the pity in his eyes. I felt sick and wrong and I curled up into a ball, hoping that if I squeezed myself tight enough, I'd disappear.

I could feel his hand smoothing my hair gently, his touch so tentative it only made me cry harder. The pressure was so light that I wouldn't have been sure I felt it at all if his skin wasn't icy. The fact that he was being careful only increased my self-loathing as I could just picture what he saw when he looked at me now because I felt it.

_Broken_.

…

_Fast I fade away, it's almost over, hold on_

_Slow, I suffocate, I'm cold and broken alone_

_I'm cold and broken._

…


	26. Chapter 24: Wrong

**Disclaimer: Twilight and all of its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The plot is mine…**

**A/N: This chapter was meant to be so much more...but it has been a while since I updated and punkadie thinks I should post a short one now rather than a long one later… So here we are. **

**Reviewers get a preview. Well…except for those of you who review anonymously. I can't send a preview to an anonymous review. I feel bad about that. I love you invisible readers too and would send you one if I could.**

Chapter 24: Wrong

"The Beginning is the End is the Beginning" –_Smashing Pumpkins_

_Relive the pictures that have come to pass_

_For now we stand alone_

_The world is lost and blown_

_And we are flesh and blood disintegrate_

…

He stayed with me as I cried and tried to calm myself down. The more I stifled my sounds, the louder they became. I eventually just gave in, hoping I would wear myself out. He didn't try to move me from the floor, as if I was some accident victim that would die if shifted.

Sometime later I found the strength to crawl up from the dirt, but I didn't. Instead I just stayed there, half curled into a ball. I didn't feel like moving. In fact, I didn't feel much like anything.

"Why?" I rasped, swallowing. "Why does this keep happening to me?"

The question remained unanswered. The words settled into the forefront of my thoughts as I truly pondered _why_. There were so many things to wonder about—so many impossible things that had happened to me.

I had fallen in love with the vampire who wanted to kill me more than any other. The vampire who felt emotions so strongly that not even time could diminish them, although his feelings for me did somehow fade. He made my life magical, but without him…it was just unbearable.

And then I was here—shifting realities, drowning my sorrows in alcohol, trying to destroy myself. I did things I had never done, could never do, in the name of numbing my pain. My hopes of being happy were raised and leveled by the vampire I found in his stead. I was targeted by the less admirable men of this Forks and that all somehow led me here.

All of these, these impossible things—_how _could they have all happened to me?

Bella Swan, the girl who wasn't special. The girl who was invisible and plain. The girl who went unnoticed.

How had she become _this_?

Each of these impossible things had somehow happened and these experiences had taken her and morphed her until I could barely even feel her inside me. The Bella Swan from Phoenix was gone long before I had woken up here, but the person I was after arriving in Forks, after meeting _them_, she was a faint glimmer, about to go out.

I had become something different.

He didn't give me an answer because there wasn't one. There was something wrong with me, but it wasn't something anyone could just point out. It was something buried deep inside, imbedded. It couldn't be named.

He knelt down beside me and I had to wonder why he would bring himself down to my level—the ground. I knew I had made him angry earlier, but now he seemed so calm. His expression was carefully smooth, but his eyes were softer somehow as he stared at me.

"It's going to be okay," he said softly.

"No. No, it's not."

Everything was just so wrong, like my life had gone critical somewhere along the way and this was the meltdown. Nothing would be okay because how could I come back from this? There isn't a cure and my only relief is more of the disease.

When I was younger, I tried my hand at gardening. Renee bought me this pack of seeds and I picked out the perfect spot in our yard for them. After lovingly burying them in the dirt, I made sure to water them everyday. Something began to rise from the ground and I was so excited for when they would finally blossom.

Before any flowers could appear, the little plant began to wither. I didn't understand why it was sick because I had taken care to water it everyday. It should have grown beautiful and proud with tiny leaves and soft petals.

I didn't know what to do, so I just kept watering it. Sometimes I wondered if maybe the water was making it worse, but what was I supposed to do? Let it die of thirst?

So I kept watering it and it kept withering. I watched my little plant sink back to the ground, shriveled and decayed.

And maybe that was me in a nutshell. I've been withering. I've been trying to soothe the burn of decay with alcohol to keep me from dying, but _it's killing me._

Edward remained silent as I continued to lay there. I was surprised he hadn't left yet, but I suppose I was pathetic enough to guilt him into staying with me. Even in my state I was grateful for his presence, especially if that guy decided to come back…

"Where is he?" I asked as I realized I hadn't seen him since Edward tore him off me.

"He's..unconscious in a bush a few yards from here."

"Oh."

"You aren't surprised," he said after a few minutes.

"Hmm?"

"I just told you that…that _pervert _is lying in a bush a few yards from here…and you aren't surprised?"

My brows furrowed and I glanced up at his face, shocked for a moment at how intensely he was staring at me.

"You don't find it strange that I was able to move a full grown man that far in minutes? Aren't you curious how I managed that?"

He leaned forward, his eyes scanning my face. Our gazes locked, but it was too much and I had to avert mine.

"You aren't though."

"I—"

"Because you already know," he cut me off.

"I d-don't know what you're talking about," I whispered.

He was so close now, leaning forward and invading my space. Surrounded by his smell with each breath he exhaled…and I was having trouble breathing.

"Look, I'm sure there's a better way to do this and I know you've been through _a lot_," he ground out, glancing away before locking eyes with me again. "But I just can't let this go."

I looked to the ground, curling further into myself and shifting so that my hair covered my face. I felt his fingers smooth the hair back behind my ear.

"You've never flinched. My skin is so cold…but…you've never flinched away from me," he said softly.

I watched him move to his knees, before sliding down next to me and mirroring my position.

Lying beside me in the dirt.

"You know what I am."

"Say it," I choked out.

"Vampire."

…

_And in your darkest hour_

_My old secrets laid_

_We can watch the world devoured in its pain_

…

**A/N: Do any of you know of any good Ghostward or Dreamward stories? I've been obsessed we these versions of Edward lately. I would really appreciate any recommendations… If you point an amazing one out to me that I haven't already read, another **_**secret**_** preview may appear in your inbox along with the one you would already get for reviewing.**

**Yeah, I'm desperate and apparently not above bribery. Oh and I have a new banner for this story. I am completely fail when it comes to creating banners, but I actually kind of like this one…so please check it out. =)**


	27. Chapter 25: The Truth

**Disclaimer: Twilight and all of its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The plot is mine…**

**A/N: I'm sorry it has taken me so long to update. Writer's block and anxiety. Also, my mind is a bit mushy these days... This chapter is shorter because I grew attached to the ending and felt like adding more would damage that. Reviewers get a preview. Here we go… 0_0**

Chapter 25: The Truth

"Ugly Side" –_Blue October_

_I only want you to see_

_My favorite part of me_

_And not my ugly side_

_Not my ugly side_

…

We stared at each other in silence.

There were so many things that needed to be said, that I had actively sought to keep hidden from him, but now that _that_ one word had been spoken, I couldn't seem to find my voice. All I could think was that he had found out. More importantly though, did he know the truth about me?

We weren't touching, but he was close enough that if one of us leaned just a bit closer, we would be. The lack of physical contact somehow made the moment more intimate.

"How long have you known?" I asked, suddenly uncomfortable.

"She told me right before the party."

"Oh," I said quietly, wondering if I should feel betrayed or relieved that Rosalie had told him. After all, if he hadn't found out, would he have even been here to save me?

He raised his hand to my cheek, but left it to hover.

"That wasn't all she told me," he said in a low voice.

I tried to keep my expression passive, but I couldn't stop my heart from hammering in my chest.

"Oh?" I finally squeaked, sitting up and putting some distance between us. He sat up slowly, likely able to sense my fear.

"You aren't her," he said softly.

He knew.

This was the moment I had been dreading since I realized I was in another world. I had imagined how it would go countless times. I had nightmares about it.

I ran.

I went deeper into the forest, exhausted from all of my crying, but finding strength in my grief. Now that he knew the truth, I didn't know where that left us. Maybe it was childish, but I just had to get away.

Unfortunately, it is extremely difficult to escape a vampire.

He appeared in front of me and grabbed my arms to keep me from falling. I wanted to keep running, but I knew it would be pointless.

"Bella?"

I cringed at _my name_.

"_Bella_," he pleaded, "please talk to me."

"What do you want me to say?" I asked, my tone going flat.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

I refused to look at him, instead choosing to glance around at the trees surrounding us. We'd gone deeper into the forest and I wasn't sure I would be able to find my way back out. It had already gotten darker and the moonlight was only just illuminating this small area.

Even so, I didn't really feel like running anymore. It was as if hearing him use that name had just stolen the wind from sails, so to speak.

I was just so _tired_.

What would be the point of running? _He knew._ And the questions he would ask…

"There was never a good time," I muttered.

He glared at me, knowing that was a lie just as much as I did.

"You've been here for _weeks_. You could've told me—"

"When?" I cut him off. "When you told me I_ disgusted _you, or when you kissed me?"

He cringed a bit at that and I decided to file that reaction away for when I was undoubtedly alone.

"Were you ever planning on telling me?"

"No," I answered honestly.

He looked like he couldn't decide whether to feel hurt or angry. I watched the momentary play of emotions that he so rarely showed before one prevailed.

"You can't just walk in and steal someone else's life!"

"What was I supposed to do? I didn't even know what had happened until I'd already been here for several days. I'm still not even sure. I thought you were _him_."

"Your Edward," he deduced.

I knew I should correct him. He wasn't _my_ Edward and it hurt to even think about when he was, but I just couldn't.

"There had to be another Edward in your world," he continued. "Otherwise you wouldn't have spoken to me with familiarity…" he trailed off and looked up at me sharply.

"Were you two together?" he asked in a low voice.

I avoided eye contact.

"Were you?" he persisted.

"It doesn't matter," I snapped.

I didn't want to talk about it and especially not with him. Admitting it would be one thing, but doing so while looking at the same face…would be beyond cruel.

"It matters to me," he replied adamantly.

"_Why?_"

He glared at me, but ignored that question altogether.

"Just tell me."

I wanted to scream and cry and ask him why my past mattered at all when I meant nothing to him, but in the end, all I did was whisper.

"Yes."

"Did you love him?" he asked softly.

"Yes."

His grip grew slack and his gaze slid to the ground, unable or unwilling to make contact with me anymore. Without his touch, I somehow felt colder.

"He didn't though."

"Didn't what?" He still wouldn't look at me.

"He didn't love me." I smiled. "He left. Couldn't stand the idea of forever with me," the words slipped out so detached, sharp and cold, like shavings of ice.

He finally looked back at me, staring in silence and considering my words.

But the way he was _staring_ at me. Intense and probing, he was probably dissecting my every detail, creating a mental list of reasons that would explain why I wasn't good enough for the Edward of my world and in turn, him.

"Bella, did you—" he stopped and seemed to rethink his words. "Is that why you drink so much? Because of him?"

I averted my eyes, unable to answer.

With my attention directed anywhere but him, I didn't see his arms rise, and almost gasped as I felt them wrap around me. My surprise only grew as he pressed my body closer to his, moving my head to rest against him.

Held tightly in his arms with my ear pressed to his chest, I listened to the silence and found that I still had many more tears to shed.

…

_So calm…and now it's dark_

_I look for you to light my heart_

…

**A/N: My story **_**Gluttony**_** won the Cupcake Wars contest and it's complete. Hint. Hint. =)**

**I wanted to thank everyone who recommended stories to me after my last update. There are still a few I haven't gotten around to reading, but once I do, I'll be sending a secret preview the recommender's way. Oh and if you're a fan of **_**Mortal Instruments**_**, you might want to swing by punkfarie's profile to check out **_**Make This Go On Forever**_**. I haven't read the series, but I did read/beta her story and it's pretty great. **

**I also really wanted to thank everyone who is still reading this story. I know I'm a horrible updater and it kills me. You guys are awesome for putting up with me.**


	28. Chapter 26: Hypocrisies

**Disclaimer: Twilight and all of its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The plot is mine…**

**A/N: Short, but slightly longer than the previous chapters. Again, I liked the ending too much. Reviewers get a preview.**

Chapter 26: Hypocrisies

"Pins and Needles" –_Billy Talent_

_Even when she was defensive,  
It just gave me more incentive  
The more you squeeze, the more it slips away_

…

"You know, we haven't actually kissed," he mumbled into my hair once my tears had dried up. I kept my face buried in his shirt, trying to smother my blush.

"Well," I sniffed, "not in _that_ way, but you have…"

"I have what?" I could hear the grin in his voice.

"You've…kissed my hand," I finished lamely.

I could feel his body shake with silent laughter and although I was embarrassed, I couldn't help but smile a little. A part of me recognized that I had probably overstayed my welcome in his arms, but I couldn't bring myself to let go.

"So…"

"So?"

"_So_ where do you want to start? We've got a lot to talk about."

"Do we?" I mumbled, feigning disinterest.

"Bella."

"I'm from a parallel universe and you're a vampire. I'm pretty sure that's it."

Although there are many questions I would like to ask him about his life, I really don't want to extend the same courtesy.

"As much as I'd love to continue running around making assumptions and acting on hearsay, I really think it's time we just bring everything out into the open."

"Fine," I reluctantly agreed, too tired to argue. "But can we do this somewhere else?" I asked, pulling out of his embrace.

His fingers trailed across my arm, eliciting shivers that weren't just from the cold.

"Okay."

As I began to back away, his hand slipped from my arm, but quickly moved to grasp mine. I glanced down at our joined hands and then back up at him in question, but he only smiled.

He led us to my truck and as we passed a stray person staggering drunkenly before spewing vomit in someone's flower bed, I wondered if I looked that pathetic. When Edward asked for my keys, I gave them up without protest. Although I was far from inebriated now, I had no desire to argue with him over something as unimportant as driving.

He was silent as he drove and I spent my time watching his hands—how the left held the steering wheel in a gentle grasp that belied its firmness and the way his right hand would wrap around the gear shift, interchanging between pushing forward and pulling back.

Pushing forward always ends in having to pull back.

I stepped through the front door, trying not to notice how dark and barren the house seems, especially with my presence. Moving methodically, I climbed the stairs to my room, not surprised to see him following closely behind.

I paused just inside the doorway, struck by the scene—my old bedspread that really wasn't, the rocking chair sitting stoically in the corner—and how terribly innocent it all felt. My skin felt dirty, but not from being pushed down onto the ground. For a moment it was as if I could still feel that creep's hands grabbing at me.

"Mind if I take a quick shower?" I asked quietly. I grimaced at his nod of understanding.

I slid passed him when he shifted from the doorway and tried not dwell on what would be waiting for me when I returned. He was clearly determined to get some answers and it would only cause me more grief if I kept thinking about it.

I locked the bathroom door, despite knowing Edward would never try to sneak in here and that it would be useless if he actually wanted to. Yet, I embraced this false sense of security as I anxiously shed my clothes and waited for the water to warm up.

A sort of madness set in as I scrubbed my body, desperate to remove the imaginary itch I felt when I recalled his groping. My hands were tired and pruned by the time I stepped out and it was only then that I realized I had forgotten my clothes.

I sighed in exasperation, even more annoyed at myself. I expected an awkward and embarrassing conversation waiting for me when I entered my room in a towel, but was shocked to find him curiously missing.

Regardless of his absence, I dressed quickly and was only slightly surprised to find him sitting in the rocking chair when I turned away from my dresser.

"Where have you been?"

"I noticed you had forgotten your clothes and I figured I would give you some privacy."

"Oh."

An awkward silence settled in and I interchanged between glancing at him and staring at a loose thread in my sweats. Recognizing my unwillingness to begin, Edward broke the silence.

"Tell me about your world."

I stared at the thread for another moment before steeling myself to speak.

"It's mostly the same, I think. Well, except for the people. Charlie is alive in my world and I live with him…" I trailed off.

I knew he must have wanted me to reveal more with that question, so I quickly asked one of my own.

"How old are you?" I asked, but before he could answer, I quickly interjected, "And if you say seventeen, I'm not going to answer any of your questions."

He raised an eyebrow, but seemed more amused than anything by my condition.

"I was seventeen when I became a vampire in 1917. You can do the math for yourself."

I hummed at the information and at his questioning glance, hastened to explain.

"You're a year older than the Edward from my world."

"Oh."

"I know. You're practically an old geezer," I smiled.

The upturn of his lips seemed to slip at my mention of the Edward from my world and I wondered if maybe I shouldn't have. He surprised me by changing the subject to my life before Forks, which I didn't have a problem discussing. He had a hard time accepting my reason for moving in with Charlie, most likely having trouble rationalizing the differences between my life and Izzy's.

Eventually the questions began to venture down a more dangerous avenue, so I quickly changed the subject.

"Rosalie said you drink human blood," I blurted, regretting my lack of tact as his expression grew colder.

"Yes," he confirmed, his jaw clenched.

"The rest of your family…they drink animal blood, don't they?"

His eyes narrowed, but he nodded.

I was imagining it now—his powerful hands holding a poor unsuspecting woman as his teeth sink into her neck, her screams muffled as her body goes limp, and his lips smeared with her blood.

"But…how could you?" I asked softly.

"I do what I have to," he replied tersely, avoiding eye contact.

"Have you tried…?" I trailed off as he turned to glare at me.

"Of course I've tried," he snapped. "Animal blood just isn't the same. Doesn't sustain me."

He stood up from the chair and I flinched as it rocked back to the floor with a thump. I chewed on my lip, watching him pace to the window and back.

"But the Edward from my world—"

"Let me guess," he cut me off. "He was just fine living on animal blood. A real model citizen."

I opened my mouth to say…well...something, _anything_ really, but he wasn't finished.

"Well, you know what? I'm _not_ perfect. And you have no room to judge. Especially not after your behavior tonight."

"Are you really comparing drinking alcohol to drinking human blood?" I asked incredulously.

"I drink human blood to survive. What's your excuse? A teenage crush that wasn't reciprocated?" he laughed.

I had endured many cruel words from him, most of which I probably deserved, but I couldn't stand listening to him belittle my feelings. Not about this.

"I loved him!" I yelled angrily. Now standing right in front of him, I matched his cold gaze with mine. "I would have _died_ for him. He might not have loved me, but don't you dare—"

The words died on my tongue as he grabbed my upper arms roughly and for one brief moment, I wondered if he was going to do it—if he was finally going to bite me.

I gasped in shock as his lips descended on mine, his mouth quickly swallowing the sound. This kiss was unlike the ones I had shared with my Edward, lacking the care and precision one would use when handling glass. I could barely keep my head up as the force of his mouth bent it almost painfully back and I felt dizzy, realizing detachedly that he was smothering me with the soft pillows of his lips.

Only when my knees began to buckle slightly did he stop, releasing my mouth but maintaining his hold on my arms. Touching my lips, I stared at him in wide-eyed surprise, while his gaze stayed dark and unrepentant.

When my hand fell away, his mouth was back in a movement so fast that I gasped again. He used this to his advantage and I felt his tongue slip between my lips. I groaned as his tongue swept through my mouth, probing and tasting so thoroughly it made my knees go weak.

It had never been like this—raw and selfish with him just taking, taking, _taking_. Maybe it was wrong, _so very wrong_, but I didn't think I would be able to stop this and even if I could…

I wasn't sure I wanted to.

Wave after wave of heat flowed through my body as his hand fisted in my hair, just shy of yanking out the captured strands.

I was passed the point of logic, finally sliding my own hands around his neck and shivering at the dichotomy of his skin, how its icy temperature only made me feel warmer. I moved them further up into his hair, curling my fingers into claws and pulling just as hard as he had.

The rumble that began in his chest seemed to travel from our joined lips to my toes, eliciting another shiver of pleasure. Wanting to recreate the experience, I yanked again.

As another growl slipped out, his grip tightened and I found myself falling back onto the bed. He hovered over me, one of his hands sliding up my thighs and one of his knees moving between my legs. I gasped when his knee shifted a bit, rubbing me through my pajama pants.

My eyes slipped shut for only a moment, but once they did, everything stopped.

When I opened them, he was gone.

…

_With no one there for me  
It took too long to see her in misery_

…

**A/N: Sweet Relief has been nominated for ****Most Original Story**** in the Rare Gem Awards. If you like this story, please show your support by voting: http:/thesparkleteerawards(dot)blogspot(dot)com/p/voting(dot)html  
**


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